#and everyone was on their knees begging her to leave LMAO

[okaioh]

made this in remembrance of missing the maze </3 - I need my bitch wife back 😞

[nvuy]

im like itching for a boothill x single parent romance. LIKE WHAT IF they moved in next to boothill and everyones like "naww dont go near that guy hes scary and shit" but when kid sees boothill they get so intrigued by boothill they try to get close to him every time they see and hes just... scared? or paranoid, so he doesnt let them close. and then one time kid was still asking questions to boothill and stuff, parent was rushing looking for them, they see them, and then goes like "omf sir im so sorry my kid bothered you" and then boothill is like "nah its ok id do anyt- no what i mean we just met its cool btw lmao"

yk that one scene in a goofy movie where max get laughed at on the bleachers and then roxanne comes and picks him up and asks if he’s alright and then max starts babbling absolute gibberish yep

“So, how strong are you, mister?”

Boothill’s fingers are pressed against the girl’s tiny tiny hands. So small and little and squishy, and he seriously contemplated squishing her until she popped. His palm is cold against hers, and she giggles at the difference in size.

“Hmm…” He leans back on his heels in his squatting position in the front garden. He taps his chin in thought. “Don’t gotta clue. Anythin’ you need me to pick up?”

The girl gasps and there’s stars in her eyes. “Can you pick me up?” She stretches out her arms towards him.

He cracks a grin at her and ruffles her hair. “I dunno. You might be a bit heavy.” He’s teasing her, of course, but she pouts.

“At least try.”

“Alright, little lady.” He hooks his arms underneath hers and hoists her up easily, hands locked at her ribs. “How’s that? Good enough for ya?”

She hums thoughtfully, a cheeky smile on her face as she, too, taps her chin. “Now you gotta carry me for the entire day.”

It was his turn to pout. “N’aw. That’s no fair.”

“There you are!” There’s a rustle of footsteps and the jangling of keys to his left that made him stiffen for a moment, before your familiar face comes into view. Your eyes flit from him to your daughter. “I’ve been calling you for lunch.”

Oh, great Heavens.

“Hi, gorg– uh…” The ranger stumbles over his tongue and zips his lips shut when a small smile stretches into your lips. “We were– I was just– uh…”

Your daughter looks upset when Boothill gently places her back down in the grass.

“Just horsin’ ‘round,” he finishes. “I was just passin’ by, y’see? And your lil’ princess chased me down.”

You clear your throat, staring down at your shoes for a moment and trying to hide the heat rising from your neck to your face.

“I’m sorry about her,” you say to him. “She’s, um… hard to control.”

“That’s a good thing,” he whispers down to your daughter. “Means you got a free spirit.” He pokes her in the side and she giggles.

You give him another look and his eyes snap to the left, and a casual tune leaves his lips in the form of a whistle.

You offer a hand to the girl. “I made pasta.”

Your daughter practically barrels into your side, almost knocking you over with how her small arms wrap around your hips—she used to only be able to reach your knees. God, time flies.

Your eyes flit to the ranger once more. “Um… I made a lot so… if you’re hungry…” Your eyes trail down to his stomach before you swallow. “Do you get hungry?”

He studies your face for a moment with a pensive look.

Then, Boothill snorts. “Nah, sugar.”

Your face is burning. “Right. Well, you’re welcome to come in, anyway.”

“Oh, please have lunch with us!” your daughter all but begs. Her hands have now interlocked in front of her in a pleading gesture, and she’s offering him her most intense puppy eyes. “I can show you my room.”

He’s immediately swayed. “Well, it’s hard to say no to a cute thing like you.” He reaches down and pinches her cheek.

He watches you blink, perhaps taken aback for a moment.

He thinks you’re so beautiful, even if the apron you’re wearing is covered in sauce stains.

He almost starts cheering when you visibly perk up. “You’ll join us?”

“’Course! I’d do anythin’ for y–” He stops himself by digging his teeth into his tongue. “I mean… if ya insist.”

He can tell you’re biting the inside of your cheeks to keep yourself from smiling too wide. You pucker your lips and look elsewhere, face dark with blood.

Your daughter is strangely silent. He notices she’s enamoured with a bright blue butterfly floating along one of the bushes nearby.

“Cool.” You can’t think of anything else to really say. You rock on your heels absentmindedly. “I’d like that.”

His smile grows impossibly wider. “Would ya now?” He taps your nose once before he bends down to greet your daughter again. “Lead the way, little lady.”

“One sec,” you mumble, digging in your pockets.

You fumble for your ring of keys before you throw them quite badly at the cyborg. He manages to catch them well enough, fingers frozen over the steel.

Huh?

“It’s, um… the purple key. For the front door.”

Sure enough, one of the keys was coated in a deep purple.

Your daughter has already begun sprinting towards the front door. You’re half keeping a close eye on her through your peripherals, but your gaze wanders from her to watch him closely.

“I have a spare so… you can have it,” you continue slowly. Was this… too forward?

Boothill eyes you for a moment. A hand moves to his hips.

Then, in a flash, he pulls the purple key off of the ring it’s attached to and gently tosses it back at you. You struggle to catch them, but you manage with shaky hands and stuff them back into your pocket.

“‘Ppreciate it, pretty thing. You know just how to make a man swoon.”

He blows you a kiss with the steel to his lips and then tips his hat. He catches up with your daughter in no time, sweeping her off her feet and letting her slot the key in the lock to open the door.

You realise when he’s staring at you, one hand holding your own front door open expectantly, that you’re standing out in your front garden gawking at him like an idiot.

You quickly follow him inside, and he closes the door behind you. He’s quick to swing an arm around your waist when you guide him into the kitchen.

[achilles-rage]

All Yours

summary: you go to a frat party with your longtime boyfriend buck, but when you see a girl flirting with him, you get jealous. you leave early, and buck begs to make it up to you.

word count: 3.4k

request: anon- down bad kinda sub(?) frat boy evan buckley. like, established relationship, they've been together since high school; but someone was flirting with buck and reader saw it so she takes him back to her apartment and he like gets down to his knees and like begs with his eyes to please her or whatever :) and feel free to take this in your own direction!! this is just an idea :)

a/n: dear god, whoever requested this i'm gonna kiss you on the lips. this has me FERAL and i love sub buck a little more than i thought i would. this reminds me so much of good luck charm and i had to go back and change all the evan's to buck's because i'm so used to using evan in good luck charm lmao (read good luck charm if you haven't pls i promise it's a good time). also, just a reminder than buck is the only man ever<33 enjoy<3

warnings: smut, barely edited (oops), college fratboy!buck, sub!buck, no use of y/n, fem!reader, plus size!reader, race inclusive!reader

Your face scrunches up as you walk over the threshold of the frat house, the smell of beer and sweat filling your senses and making you feel dizzy.

It’s not your first party. Far from it. You’ve been in this house many times; during parties, and when it’s just the members. You can’t even count how many times you’ve woken up in one of the rooms, a strong arm wrapped around your thick middle as hot breath hits the back of your neck. 

You’ve been to many parties with him, too, not even just college parties. You’ve been dating Buck since high school, and with him being on the football team in high school too, parties were something he was always dragging you to. Not that you minded.

“Wanna show off my girl.” he’d tell you. And you couldn’t do anything else but agree; not when he’s looking at you with those big blue eyes, a small pout on his lips. 

Even with being so used to parties, and having Buck by your side the entire time, you don’t think you’ll ever get used to the first few moments when you step into the party. It’s so loud, and the smell of beer almost burns your nostrils as you try to maneuver through a sea of drunk people, just waiting for someone to get too close and spill beer all over your shirt. You learned early that wearing black was always the best option when you’re here.

You make your way through the crowd with Buck, watching him greet his teammates and other friends and laughing as they call him whipped for walking to your house to pick you up. He brushes them off. Tells them that he has to. That it’s his girl that he’s got to keep safe.

All of his friends have seen how he is around you, and while he tried to hide it during the first few weeks of college, it’s your last year, and it’s very clear to everyone that you’re his world. And they’ve stopped teasing him about it. For the most part.

You finally find a group of his friends and their girlfriends standing around between the living room and the kitchen, and you stop there, beers in hand as you both fall into conversation with them. 

Buck talks to his teammates while you talk to a couple of their girlfriends that you’ve grown quite close to. Buck keeps an arm over your shoulders, keeping you close. He likes to have you near him all the time; he’s seen the way some guys here look at you, and while he knows you won’t do anything about it, as you’ve been together for over 5 years and have yet to have a problem, it’s the guys he doesn’t trust.

“We’re gonna go get more drinks. You want another beer?” you ask him over the noise around you, standing up on your toes and practically yelling into his ear.

He smiles, looking down at the sight of you on your toes as he licks his lips.

“Have I told you how pretty you look today?” he asks over the music. You feel your already hot cheeks heat up even more, and you laugh softly.

“Yeah, a couple times.” you tell him, rolling your eyes. More like 10, at least. “You want a refill?”

“Yeah, if you’re going. Thank you, baby.” You nod, then put two fingers on his cheek, making you face him again as he holds his mouth near your ear. You give him a quick peck, then lower back down and turn to walk towards the kitchen with the girls.

You whirl your head back around when you feel a hand smack your ass, a tight-lipped smile forcing its way onto your face as you pretend to be mad. Buck raises his hands up in surrender, shrugging as he looks at you with an innocent expression. You roll your eyes, blowing him a kiss over your shoulder, and you see him pretend to catch it just before you turn back to face the kitchen.

You stand with the girls in the kitchen, stopping to talk to some other people you know before you get your refills. One of your friends is ranting very loudly about her boyfriend, one of Buck’s best friends, and you’re all listening intently. Their relationship is very on-again, off-again, and you can’t help but roll your eyes at her words. You got so lucky with Buck, you think.

Your conversation is cut short when her eyes widen, and she ducks behind you. All you hear is something sounding like a mumbled “he’s right there!” before she speed walks out of the kitchen and into the living room. You laugh with the other girls, and then grab your refills before making your way back to your boyfriends.

You stop in your tracks, however, when you’re met with the sight of Buck standing very closely to a pretty brunette. She laughs loudly at something he says, and everything around you disappears as your focus remains solely on the sight unfolding in front of you.

You frown as you see him smiling down at her, his head leaned down just slightly in order to hear her.

Buck is just trying to be polite, of course. He knew exactly what was happening as soon as she made her way over, stumbling slightly and almost crashing into him when she was finally right in front of him. 

He talks with her, not wanting to seem rude, but his mind is completely focused on you. His eyes widen in surprise when she stands up on her toes and grabs the back of his neck, pulling his ear down to her mouth to speak to him over the loud music and chatter around them. 

You can’t see his face when she puts his hand to the back of his neck; her head completely blocking your sight of his very clearly uncomfortable expression. All you see is his hand going to her waist. Your jaw clenches, and it’s like a car crash; it makes you sick, but you can’t tear your eyes away.

In your jealous haze, you don’t process the fact that she’s clearly stumbling around, and Buck’s hand on her waist seems to be the only thing keeping her from falling over completely. 

His eyes scan the room for you as she keeps talking, barely listening as he looks out for you. He wants you back here right now; he wants to show this girl that he’s taken. By you.

He doesn’t see you though. And when he finally leans down and tells her that he’s happily taken, she pouts, mumbling a slurred “of course you are” before she walks away. He lets out a sigh of relief, and a minute later, he smiles widely when he sees you crossing the room back to him.

He grunts when you practically shove his beer at him, his smile disappearing. He’s quick to grab the cup, and his brows furrow when he sees you ignoring his presence, keeping your eyes on some of the girls you were with. 

“You okay, baby?” he asks, whispering into your ear as he wraps an arm around you and rests his hand on your hip. You shrug, your body rigid as he pulls you closer to him. You know you’re being a little overdramatic; you’re sure the girl walked away pouting because Buck told her that he was taken, but you’re too jealous to listen to the voice of reason in your head.

“Perfect.” you reply shortly, your jaw clenched as you keep your eyes straight ahead of you. He keeps his eyes on you, and when you don’t even bother looking at him, he squeezes your hip, hoping it’ll get your attention.

“Hey, what’s up?” Are you mad at me?” he asks desperately. He hates when you’re mad at him. He doesn’t see it often, at least, not real anger. You’ve argued over silly things, of course, and he’s not unused to seeing how you get when you’re hangry, but it’s not very often you have actual fights.

“Do I have a reason to be mad at you?” you reply coldly, finally turning your head to look up at him with a raised brow. You’re glad the girls have noticed your anger, and have turned to talk to each other. 

“I don’t know. I don’t think so.” Buck says, his brows furrowed in confusion. He doesn’t even think of that girl earlier; he barely even paid attention to her. He couldn’t tell you a single thing about her. He was too focused on you coming back to him.

“Then why would I be mad at you?” you reply, although your tone tells him that you’re clearly mad at him.

“I don’t know. That’s why I’m asking you.” Your sweet boy, always the voice of reason. He’s always eager to talk things out; he never wants things to grow into a bigger problem. Usually, you love it, but right now, it’s making you even more upset.

“Do you wanna go somewhere and talk?” he asks when you don’t answer right away. You huff, shaking your head, then turn your attention back to the girls who aren’t even facing you anymore.

“Not particularly.” you reply shortly. He huffs, grabbing your forearm gently and turning you to face him. He’s had enough of this. He just wants you to talk to him.

“Come on, baby. Can we go talk, please?” he asks, desperation in his eyes. He’s driving you insane right now; pretending not to know what you’re upset about.

“Do we have to? I thought you wanted to enjoy the party? I wouldn’t wanna stop you from that.” you reply in a mocking tone, crossing your arms over your chest as you finally face him.

“Baby, please. You know I want to be with you tonight. Please talk to me.” You groan, finally snapping and grabbing his wrist, beginning to pull him out of the house and towards your house. He drops his cup on a table haphazardly as he passes by it, eyes focused on you. 

He stays quiet as you pull him in the direction of your house, waiting for a minute before he speaks in a hushed tone, wary of the people walking past you two on the sidewalk.

“So? What’s up?” You shake your head, continuing to walk. You don’t want to argue with him in the middle of the sidewalk. 

He huffs, but keeps following you all the way to your house. When you’re finally in your room, the house eerily silent with your roommate still at the party, you finally turn to face him with your arms crossed over your chest.

“Are you gonna explain why you’re so mad at me now?” he asks, trying desperately to keep the distance you’ve put between the two of you. You scoff, rolling your eyes.

“You’re really gonna keep playing dumb?” you ask angrily, narrowing your eyes at him. His eyes widen, and he tilts his head to the side, trying to think of a reason for your feelings.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, baby. Really. Just, please tell me why you’re upset.” he pleads, his voice softening. He wants nothing more than to see your pretty smile again, and he hates that he’s the reason for your frown.

“You were flirting with that girl! And don’t act like you weren’t because I saw you.” you seethe. Deep down, you know he’d never do that, but your jealousy is getting the best of you. His eyes widen further, and he shakes his head and stutters as he tries to come up with a reply. He’s taken back by your accusation. He would never do that. He has you. His sweet girl.

“I wasn’t flirting with her! She came up to me and was flirting with me, and I was trying to be polite. Is that really why you’re mad? Baby, you know I only want you.” His voice gets softer as he speaks, and he takes a step forward, desperate to touch you.

“It sure didn’t look like you were just being polite. You touched her.” you snap, jaw clenched as he takes a step forward.

“She was drunk; she was stumbling around. I was keeping her steady so she didn’t fall over. Come on, baby, you know I only want you.” he pleads, crossing the distance, reaching a hand out to you. You shake your head, taking a step back before you turn and walk towards your bed. 

You sit on the edge of your bed, putting your head in your hands. You know he’s right. His reassurances are slowly helping, but you’re still angry. He’s yours, and you don’t want to share. Ever.

“Baby, please. You know I wouldn’t do that to you.” he whispers, kneeling down in front of you, trying to meet your eyes as they remain focused on the floor.

“I know you wouldn’t. But I know what I saw.” you reply in a softer voice. You don’t want to argue anymore. You’re tired. But even so, your hair is standing on end, and you can feel your teeth grinding.

“You saw me keeping her from falling. Yes, she was flirting with me, but I didn’t reciprocate.” he explains, putting his hands on the top of your legging-clad thighs. You bite your lip, finally looking up at him.

“What can I do, baby? Let me show you that you’re the only one I want. Please.” he practically begs, his hands slowly moving up your thick thighs. You let out a shaky sigh, feeling goosebumps erupt on your skin from his touch, even through your leggings. 

“How are you gonna do that?” you ask softly, your heartbeat quickening as you sit up straighter and lean back on your hands.

“Let me show you, baby. Let me make you feel good. Show you how much I love you.” You bite your lip, a smirk coming onto your face at his desperate expression. You’re still angry, but it’s being clouded over by the sheer power you feel as you take in your boyfriend on his knees, begging to please you.

“Can I?” he asks, his voice almost a whimper as his fingers dance across the waistband of your leggings. 

“You better.” you reply in a slightly mocking tone. He smiles, tugging on your leggings eagerly. You lift your hips and let him pull your leggings and panties down in one go.

“Yes ma’am.” he whispers with a hint of a smirk, beginning to press feather light kisses up your inner thighs. As soon as his lips touch your thighs, he lets out a desperate moan, his smirk long gone as he looks up at you with desperate eyes.

“God, I love you so much, baby. Love your pretty body.” he murmurs against your skin, working his way up your thighs to your core. 

You bite your lip as he kisses you, and you move one of your hands to his hair, slowly pushing it back.

“You gonna show me, baby?” you ask in a sweet tone, although there’s a hint of condescension in your tone. Buck groans, nodding, and he can feel his dick twitching in his pants at your tone.

“Yeah, baby. I’m gonna show you. I’ll do anything you want.” he tells you eagerly, now dangerously close to your dripping centre.

“You know what to do.” you tell him, a smirk on your face as you hold eye contact with him. He wastes no time in pushing your legs even further apart, and wrapping his arms around your thighs. He lowers his mouth to your cunt, licking a firm strip up your folds before nuzzling into your heat, sucking and lapping eagerly.

You bite your lip, letting out a shaky sigh as you grip his hair tightly. He’s always eager to use his mouth on you, but now, you think he’ll have you seeing stars in record time.

“I’m all yours, baby. My sweet girl. God, you taste like heaven.” he murmurs against you, groaning. He darts his tongue into your cunt, using his nose to nudge at your clit, and you moan, tilting your head back and pushing his head further against you.

“Yeah? You’re all mine?” you ask shakily, and he nods eagerly, moaning.

“All yours. I only want you, baby.” he whimpers, taking his mouth away from you just long enough to speak before he’s diving back in, circling his tongue around your clit.

“Is that good, baby? Is this what you wanted?” you ask in a condescending tone when you feel his actions quicken slightly, his fingers digging into the fat of your thighs.

“So good, baby. I love making you feel good. Taste so good.” he mumbles, although you can barely understand him as he keeps his head burrowed between your legs.

“Yeah? Just me? Or would you rather that girl at the party?” you ask sarcastically. He growls, his teeth grazing your clit as he looks up at you. You gasp, your grip tightening on his hair as you let out a soft laugh at his unimpressed reaction.

“Only you, baby. She’s nothing compared to you. So pretty.” he tells you, his eyes glancing down at your glistening folds as he speaks.

“Good answer. Now, are you gonna make me come, or am I not gonna let you touch me for a whole week?” you ask in a stern tone, licking your lips as he whimpers.

“God. Please, baby. Wanna make you come, please.” he murmurs, taking his mouth away to push two fingers into your dripping hole. You moan loudly as his lips attach back to your clit, and you can feel your stomach tighten at the feeling of both his fingers and mouth working you fervently.

“So good for me, baby. Don’t stop.” you purr, trying desperately to keep your eyes on him as you feel the familiar sensation growing in the pit of your tummy.

“Won’t stop. Wouldn’t dream of it.” he mutters, curling his fingers to push against that spot inside of you.

“Buck. Oh my god.” you whine loudly, tilting your head back as you finally let go. He smiles against your cunt, lapping up your juices until he’s sure he’s gotten it all, desperate to work you through your orgasm.

“How was that, baby?” he asks when he finally pulls away, his chin glistening with your juices.

“Did so good, baby. So good for me.” you tell him, trying to slow your heavy breathing as you push his hair back with the hand previously gripping his hair tightly.

He beams, kissing your thighs gingerly. You almost laugh; he’s looking up at you with bright, wide eyes, he almost looks like a sad puppy.

“Thank you. Taste so good, baby. Best thing I’ve ever tasted.” he murmurs, continuing to kiss your sensitive thighs.

“You think you should be forgiven now?” you ask in a slightly teasing tone. You know you’ve forgiven him; you forgave him as soon as his lips touched your core, but you can’t help but continue for a little bit longer.

“Yes. Please. Please forgive me, pretty girl. I only want you.” he pleads, squeezing your thighs.

You laugh softly, caressing his cheek, and he leans into your touch immediately.

“I forgive you, baby. But if I see something like that again, I won’t be so nice.” you tease, although there’s a sternness in your voice. He nods quickly, pressing one last kiss to your thigh.

“Promise, baby. It won’t happen again. I love you.” he says desperately. You keep a straight face for a moment before you smile, nodding.

“I know, and I love you, too. Now give me a kiss.” you tell him softly. He’s quick to unwrap his arms from your thighs, standing up and pushing you back onto the bed. He crawls over top of you, slotting between your legs as he kisses you with fervor. 

You can taste yourself on his tongue as his tongue glides across your lips, and you part them gently, pulling him closer by his shirt.

“I love you. My pretty girl.” he murmurs against your lips, and you smile, continuing to kiss him.You know you may have overreacted, but it was definitely worth it to see him like this.

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[ddaz3d-and-cc0nfused]

Hi!! I have a one shot request (I hope I’m in the right place lmao)

What about a autistic (fem)reader who is super smart and seems to notice things about the case that the others haven’t and every time she tries to state her thoughts a rude sherif cuts her off/infantilising her and Emily defends her

Honestly my brain stopped at the thought of Emily, I need more of her 😔🫶

-anon ᕦ(ò_óˇ)ᕤ

fem plus size autistic!reader, wc: 517.

a/n: i have had this finished but sitting in my drafts because i was too lazy to post it, but here it is! i hope that i was able to capture what you were looking for right! :] this can either be read as platonic or romantic!

cw! asshole elders :/

You have been spoken over and shut down for the past hour, twenty minutes, and thirty seconds. 

You hated being silenced, but one thing that trumps that was being infantilized. You worked hard to get where you were now, and you hated being treated like a child just because your way of thinking was different from your peers. 

You have saved thousands of people and you’ll be damned if you continue to be treated like this.

“If you look closely, you can see that the area that these women were killed in must hold some kind of sentimental meaning to our unsub.” You grab the black marker and go to draw the inevitable triangle on the printed out map before you’re stopped by the sheriff.

 “Hold it now, sweetheart. Don’t just go markin’ up stuff.”

“I beg your pardon?” You ask with furrowed eyebrows.

“I’m sure the area these women were killed in was just pure coincidence, so we don’t wanna risk coloring in the paper just ‘cause you think you know somethin’.” He spoke as if he knew more than you did like he was the one with the degree, his tone absolutely rolling in condescension. 

“I’m sorry but –” You try to say but the old fart cuts you off. “I’m sure you are –”

“Excuse me, sheriff, but I’m afraid Special Agent _______ made a great point.” Emily was quick to come to your aide, emphasizing the words ‘Special Agent’ just to reinforce her point.

You could see it in her narrowed eyes, and everyone else’s really, that she was about done with the Sheriff’s embarrassingly large ego. You send her an appreciative – albeit shy – smile, and she gets up, her eyes trained on the map as well. 

“She’s right, because if you look here,” She points to the first crime scene and motions for you to draw a mark. “And here,” Her finger trails down to the second location and you follow close behind. “And here.” Her path finally ends, and so does your black ink. 

There it was, just like you had first thought, a perfect triangle connecting them all.

“The most important thing should be right –” You finish her words and color in a big circle in the middle. “Here.” Emily sends you a proud look and it threatens to weaken your knees.

“I mean… I suppose that makes sense.” The man grumbled before leaving with his tail between his legs. 

“Thank you.” You say quietly. The conversation was meant to be kept between the two of you. Of course you loved and trusted everyone on your team, but Emily was your comfort person, and she made time to understand you.

“No problem,” She responds back. “Everyone was done with his shit anyway.”

“Still, thank you.” You pressed the conversation, because you don’t really think she realized the gravity of the situation, of your appreciation. 

For most of your life you had never been given a voice, and having someone stick up for you and even paving the way for you to make your point known was something that no gratitude could give.

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[lovelyhan]

— starcrossed losers (a teaser) ⟢

at age fifteen, you’re betrothed to a prince named jeonghan. at age twenty-five, you’re set to marry him. so, when your father gives you a chance to find love all on your own, you immediately take it. now if only jeonghan would stop fucking sabotaging every relationship you’re trying to get into.

★ FEATURING; jeonghan x reader

★ WORD COUNT; 1k words

★ TAGS; princess!reader, enemies to lovers, arranged marriage, emotional romantic and sexual tension all in one lmao, angst, smut (in the future scenes, this teaser is sfw!)

★ NOTES; so my blog won't die in my absence nd slight inactivity from writing, i decided to leave you guys a snippet of the third n last part of my royalty series <3 as always, content in my teasers are not final and can be subject to change so heads up on that!

this is part of the it’s complicated series.

It’s several hours past midnight when you hear three gentle but firm knocks on the door to your bedchambers. 

Annoyed, you stare at the collection of unopened gifts stacked high on your vanity. From delicacies from the neighboring kingdoms to the most expensive collection of cosmetics in Ancarra, your guests certainly knew how to curry your favor. But not even their lavish presents can dispel the pure vexation that’s been making your blood boil the entire evening. 

Not bothering to answer the door, you whisk yourself into the plush seat tucked underneath the dresser. There’s only one halfwit currently residing in the castle brave enough to disturb you in the dead of night, and with how terribly tonight’s festivities went, you’re in no mood to extend your hospitality to anyone—much less Seraphia’s exasperating, insufferable, scheming—

“Isn’t it a little too late to be testing out swatches, Your Grace?”

You try to ignore him. The way his silken dress shirt dangles half untucked from his trousers. The self-satisfied look on his face when he notices you fumbling with the cherry red rouge you’re applying to your lips. 

But try as you may, you cannot ignore Jeonghan when he reaches a hand in front of you, nimble fingers wiping off the excess color that you accidentally tinted just a few millimeters from your lip line. 

Not when his smoldering stare holds yours captive in the image reflected in your gilded mirror. Not when you can’t even find it in yourself to resist when he gently grabs your chin and forces your gaze to marvel at the man himself.

“Sulking again, Princess?” Jeonghan sneers and you want to hate him for it, but you can’t. “I saved you from a man charged with treason three times in a single decade. Why are you pouting at me like I took away the love of your life?”

“Because you’ve made it your life’s purpose to make mine miserable,” you snarl, putting as much venom into the words as you can. “Minghao isn’t a traitor. If he was, he wouldn’t be sitting on top of the Rènxìng empire. He wouldn’t even be daring enough to show his face here for the sole purpose of courting me.”

He sighs as if meaning to be sympathetic, but you’ve long seen past the ruse. “Poor little thing, still being played like a fool all because you abhor the idea of one day becoming my wife. Tell me, didn’t you find it odd, how persistent he was in pursuing a woman who’s already spoken for?”

“I am not spoken for,” you interject, trying not to crumble from how his thumb lightly dabs at your lower lip. “Not by you. Not by anyone. Father gave me a choice—”

“Yes, of course. Everyone knows the story of the Ancarran Princess who’s chained to a troublesome foreigner. So troublesome that she had to beg on her knees just to get the king to reconsider,” Jeonghan coos, face inching ever-so close to yours.  

“But as it turns out, all the other men you’re trying your damnedest to replace me with are even worse fiends than I.” 

Your lungs burn as if they’ve been set aflame and Jeonghan is merely adding more fuel to the blaze. “You’re despicable.”

“And you, Your Grace, are much too gullible,” he chuckles, each breath fanning hotly against your skin. “I’d say just give it up and surrender, but you’ve been fighting against me since we were children. Putting an end to our very interesting relationship in such a boring way wouldn’t make good for the history books, no?”

All of a sudden, you remember something that Soonyoung told you in passing. How Jeonghan is someone who cherishes his loved ones deeper than one would otherwise expect. He loves his homeland. He loves his family. Above all, he loves his people.

With how he keeps reeling you back from all your attempts to escape your engagement, any other person would assume that he loves you just as much.

But how are you supposed to believe that someone like him is capable of love when all he does is thrive off your misery?

“This new rouge you’re testing out,” he murmurs, as if it’s remotely acceptable to just shift the conversation after what he just told you. “It’s the kind that takes days to remove once it dries, no?”

“In what way does it concern you?” you grit. 

The despicable prince simply hums. “Oh, nothing. It’s just that I’m quite curious about its actual longevity.” 

You can practically hear your heart stutter to a stop when he closes the distance even more—only a hair’s breadth separating your mouth from his. You’re clueless as to how it happened, but you suddenly find your fingers coiled around the front of his shirt. Looking for purchase. For solid ground.

But you should know better than to anchor yourself to someone as unpredictable as Jeonghan.

“If someone were to ruin it in the next ten seconds, would you even be more furious than you are now?” he whispers and you can feel the ghost of a smirk against your lips. “Or would it garner the opposite effect? Would you finally melt into their arms? Would you let them tear all your defenses asunder?”

Your pulse is roaring in your ears and all of a sudden, you can’t remember how to breathe. His intense stare is pinning you in place no matter how badly you want to escape. The scent of expensive champagne lingers on his lips and you find yourself craving for a taste. 

But you can’t. You can’t want that. You can’t want him. 

This is the man who’s made your life a living hell for as long as you can remember. The man you’ll be cursed to sit beside in a throne room forever if you don’t do anything about it fast. 

You know these facts perfectly well, and yet…

Your eyes flutter closed as you hook your wrists across the back of his neck, letting your arch-nemesis fall deep into you.

this is part of the it’s complicated series.

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[clubdionysus]

[BAD DECISION #57] Buttons

warnings: the big gallery auction!!! wahooo!!! the entire plot was building to this!!!!!! he is on his knees begging!! rooftop escapades <3, semi-public, oral (f), fingering, phonecall??? during??? jungkook is insane????, readers underwear in jungkooks mouth?? readers underwear in jungkooks... underwear?, a v horny jk lmao

a/n: all currency is in korean won!

wc: 11K

bd total wc: 540k (ongoing)

AO3 | MASTERLIST | MINORS DNI

Gallery days always feel a little more placid than they really should do.

Where you think there should be chaos, there is calm; testament to how meticulously you plan. It's the weeks leading up to the shows that are the real stress. Endless errands are run, and countless logistical issues are checked. You work damn hard. The fact you can breathe normally right now, a few hours before doors open, is proof of it.

"You're a lifesaver," Shinwon, Jina's assistant (and Ryu Gallery's stand-in head coordinator), breathes out a sigh of relief. Having taken over her role since Jina left for maternity leave, he's been finding the adjustment hard. The responsibility of orchestrating shows weighs heavily on his shoulders. He hadn't realised quite how much of the heavy lifting Jina had been doing. "I don't know how you do it."

Shaking your head, you laugh. "Ah, it's easy once you get used to it. Get a few more shows under your belt, and you'll be grand."

It's not like you're vastly more experienced than him, it's just that you've built your way up to this. Started small. Learnt the ropes.

Shinwon had connections that put him on a high rung in the ladder, not accounting for the fact that it's damn well scary up near the top. The fall from grace is far less forgiving. Don't look down is the advice he'd always been given for this very reason.

You've had the luxury (or misfortune) of working your way up.

The levels beneath you don't scare you in the same way they scare Shinwon. If you end up back down there, you know how to climb back up. He ran before he could walk; just a product of his privilege. It's nothing you can really hold against him.

Still, it does fill you with a little bit of pride. You've worked hard, and it's paying off.

"Doors are in an hour and a half," you tell him, passing over a stack of auction guides. "Can you be an angel and put these around the place?"

Everyone in attendance will get one upon their arrival, but you know what people are like once a flute of champagne has passed their lips. Won't hurt to have spares available.

With a nod and smile that says a silent thank you for taking the lead, Shinwon is on his merry way.

Looking around the place, you take a second to appreciate all the work that has gone into this show. In the middle of the main gallery area is an empty easel and Taehyung's supplies. A pole is set up directly opposite it.

The idea is simple: Taehyung will do a live work inspired by a routine performed by Danbi. It's all very romantic, how terribly besotted with her he is. Destined to be a muse, nothing could make you happier for her. It'll also be a good money maker—people will be blind bidding throughout the night. The highest bid at the end of the auction will win the work.

It's one of multiple Kim Taehyung originals on offer tonight. He's been making waves on the art circuit lately—you've even got an international line set up for foreign bidders. The fact he's giving up his time and his art to help Jeongguk out is selfless.

"DB, I wouldn't even have international fans had it not been for you pushing me so hard to expand myself," he had reminded you after you'd thanked him for the hundredth time that afternoon. "It's the least I can do—plus Jeongguk has promised he'll import my favourite wine for the restaurant once it opens, so it's a win for me, too."

Maybe you're being greedy, but you hope the night will be a win for you, too. A lot of hard work has gone into this. With Shinwon's continuous second-guessing of himself, you know that the likelihood of a spot opening up on the Ryu's curation team is high. Think that perhaps this could be the thing that really solidifies your presence; that you can not only draw in punters, but profits, too.

You're taking in the room around you when a hand sneaks around your waist, a familiar presence intruding on your personal space in a way that never really feels like an intrusion at all.

"Hey," you whisper, not needing to turn around as Jeongguk presses a kiss to your hair, squeezing you tightly against him. "You're early."

Having been caught up at Dionysus, Jeongguk had wanted to finally finish off the renovations he had been doing to the outdoor area of the bar. Once that was done, he'd have no more obligations with the bar other than casual shifts.

The tides really are turning. It scares him. Excites him, too.

"Managed to rope Yoongi in," Jeongguk says softly, punctuating his sentences with even more kisses pressed against your hair. Told you once that if you were his girlfriend, he'd kiss you in this room, right in front of everyone. The room is empty, now, but you are his girlfriend, so he'll take his victories when he can. "Got everything sorted in, like half the time."

There's a tenderness to the way he holds onto you. Close is never close enough. It's not like he gives it much considered thought; is just how he naturally gravitates towards you.

"Does it look good?" You ask of the bar. "Happy with it?"

Nodding, Jeongguk smiles. "Unrecognisable. Kinda sad, though."

"Hm?" You question. "How come?"

"I just... I've spent a lot of time in that courtyard," he mumbles. "Always makes me think of you, though."

"Of me?" You chirp with a little confusion, as if you don't also have incredibly poignant memories there that linger like the silage of Jeongguk's aftershave through the hazy smoulder of freshly cracked fireworks.

"Of you," he doubles down. Pulls away a little, turning you to face him, and you sort of wish he hadn't. How you'll ever be able to focus now that he's here is beyond you.

Smart in his dark slacks and leather shoes, Jeongguk's white shirt is buttoned mid-way up his chest. The silver chain he so often sports rests against his skin like it was made to adorn his body; so inherently his that it's unfathomable he's ever without it.

In the corner of his charming smile lays his silver lip ring, sparkling under the gallery lights.

It's his eyes though, framed by loose strands of his lightly waved hair, that always render you a little speechless. No other artwork compares.

"New Years," he simply offers. "It's all I can ever think about when I'm there."

So imperative is the memory of time spent with you, it eradicates any memory of Hayun there. He simply doesn't consider it. Now that the dust has settled, you don't think of it, either.

"Maybe there's a little magic in that courtyard," you offer. "Now that it will be open to punters, maybe they'll have their own version of our new year in it."

A lovely thought, it is, that perhaps there's something spectacular about that little space.

In reality, the magic came from stardust that had settled on your skin like glitter, and wrapped Jeongguk up in your cosmic chaos, too.

And so he just shakes his head. Smiles. His lip ring does the thing. You die a little inside, in the most pathetic of ways. "Impossible."

With a laugh, you swot him away. "I've still got a few things to sort out."

"Need a hand with anything?" He asks, always happy to help out.

Shaking your head, you really don't think there is anything he needs to do. "Tae will be here, in, like, five. See if he needs a hand with anything? I need to go and get changed."

In all black, you're casually dressed but know that the night ahead demands something a bit more spectacular. You've a few options with you, but one particular dress is in the forefront of your mind—just worry that it's a little too much.

The thing is, you're playing multiple roles tonight. You're not simply a curator, or a hostess. You're responsible for making people open their purse strings. Looking the part is important.

"Alright," he nods, dark eyes soft. There's a tenderness to Jungook today; his adoration for you quite literally pouring from his very being. "Go. I'll keep myself busy."

Pulling you in for a quick kiss, he sends you on your way. Regrets not telling you he loves you. Will just do it when he sees you next. Revels in the fact that he can just do that now. Doesn't have to go back and forth between his feelings. Is forward with them, 'cause he's secure.

Being together is just easy. It works. Makes sense in a way that nothing else has ever done before. You could chalk it up to the stars, or to some sort of invisible string that had looped itself around you both with a pretty little bow, but nothing would ever do it justice. Not divine intervention, not destiny nor manifestation.

No romance film has ever portrayed a love like the way he feels for you, and no love song could ever soundtrack the way you laugh together. Both holy and unholy in the same breath, no religion could ever make him worship in the way that he devotes himself to you.

If he were alive in the ancient times, he would have made shrines for you. Temples. Castles. Gilded in gold, everyone who visited would have known the sincerity of how he felt.

Instead, he has to settle with modern conventions of dating. Will give you a bouquet of flowers when he really wishes he could plant you a garden full of wildflowers; beautiful unconventional blooms that everyone will adore.

He half figures that maybe he should just blow caution to the wind. Build you a temple anyway. Fill it with glitter and gacha machines. Anyone who ever visited would leave with just as much admiration for you as he has.

By the time you've changed your outfit and checked yourself over a hundred times, Jeongguk is nowhere to be seen, but the door leading up to the rooftop has been left on the latch, so you take it as a safe bet.

Much like you hadn't turned to face the sound of Jeongguk's footsteps earlier, Jeongguk doesn't turn to face yours. The click of your heels echoes on the flat roof of the ceiling, and he knows that to take in the sight of you would be incredibly dangerous. His eyes remain on the city ahead of him. He knows the direction of home. His. Yours, too. Wonders if one day you'll share a home together.

Slinking your arm around his back, you hold onto his waist as his arm drapes over your shoulders. The city is growing darker as the dusky light of late spring sunset lays a thin curtain of pink over the skyline.

"Watcha doing up here?" You ask, squeezing his waist.

He doesn't reply immediately. Could tell you about his mindless thoughts about building a home with you. Could tell you he feels nervous about the night ahead; about whether or not they'll hit their goal, or if your ex will show up.

"Just wanted some air," he says, conveying everything that he needs to. There's a lot on his mind, and you aren't gonna push him to open up so close to the big event.

"Want me to leave you be for a little bit?" You offer, knowing that he seems to be hung up on his thoughts.

Jeongguk's grip on you doesn't ease, even as he shakes his head. "No."

A comfortable silence settles between you both, neither of you needing to say any words. You understand that Jeongguk shares when he's ready. Know that he's probably thinking of the right way to phrase his worries, or deliberating whether or not he even wants to share them at all.

"What if it doesn't work?" He quietly says as the light-speckled horizon glistens in front of you both.

With a small frown, you press your lips together. Know that he doesn't mean to be pessimistic, but it's natural to have worries.

"There's no reason why it shouldn't. Anything we earn tonight will help, even if we don't reach the total goal, Gguk." Turning your head to the side, you press a kiss to the side of his hand that's draped over your shoulder. Instinct-driven, he strokes against the side of your neck with his thumb. "We've got this."

Grouping yourself in with him, the responsibility is shared. The burden falls not on him, but on the both of you. It's always been this way. From the very inception of your birds, you've been a team.

Jeongguk takes solace in this. Has never really felt alone since that first night in Dionysus. Has been consumed by you ever since.

Pressing a kiss to the side of your head Jeongguk quietly admits, "I think I'm scared, B."

"Of course you are," you say softly. "You really care about this. I'd be surprised if you weren't a little scared."

Pulling back from him, you clasp his hand and begin to lead him away from the edge of the roof.

As he takes you in for the first time, Jeongguk thinks he might just die.

The dress you're wearing is one he knows well. One he picked out. One you've been saving for a special occasion.

You're sparkling in a way you never really have done before. Look like that damn disco ball he always used to tell you that you were, except far prettier than he could ever describe.

The fabric slinks over your body, and finishes a little higher up on your thighs than it really should. Your cleavage—dusted in shimmer—is visible, and Jeongguk might just choke when he remembers you're his girlfriend. It doesn't seem possible. How he managed to catch his very own shooting star is beyond him.

It's a dress that doesn't beg for attention—it commands it.

And if there's one thing Jeongguk is good at, it's following your orders.

Shaking his head, a grin blossoms on his pretty pink lips. In the corner of his mouth, his lip ring flips ever so gently. Light glistens on him in the most gorgeous fashion, your disco ball aura dousing him in eclectic energy that neither of you quite understand. Jeongguk just knows he's better when he's with you.

He encourages you to spin beneath his raised arm, fingers still loosely clasped together. Letting out a soft whistle, Jeongguk is speechless as the dress shines even under a dusky veil of early evening skies.

The fabric drapes over your body in a way that he's almost jealous of. Shorter than he thought it would be, but also far sexier than he'd realised, Jeongguk is certain that death will be the only outcome for him if he has to watch you schmooze other men while wearing it.

"You're gonna be breaking hearts tonight, Byeol," he promises you with eyes just as sparkly as your dress.

"So?" You grin. "There's only one I care about."

He could think of some flirtatious retort. Could joke with you. Could banter in the way that he usually would.

But he knows you'll have other men leering at you tonight.

Wants you to know that none of them compare to him.

Pulling you in for a kiss, hands on either side of your jaw, Jeongguk is so incredibly sincere as he mumbles against your lips, "I love you so much." He doesn't let you reply. Kisses you again. And again. Again, again, again. "So fuckin' lucky."

He's a little careless in how often he tells you of his affection. Doesn't care to hide it, nor pretend like it isn't how he feels. Spent so long denying himself of such simple human pleasures. Revels in it, now.

"Shush," you hush him with a smile. "Love you, too—but do you not think the dress is too much?"

You're a little cautious as you pull away. Feel insecure, even with his constant praising. Know that no one else will be dressed quite like this. It's a black-tie event, and most women will be in cocktail dresses, so it's not like you'll be totally out of place; you'll just be demanding attention.

"Since when do you ever care about being too much?" Jeongguk grins. Knows he's never given you any reason to feel that way. If anything, he'll always encourage you to demand more attention. "And no. You look gorgeous, B."

Rolling your eyes to hide the way you blush, you can't help but get a little smiley at such a compliment. "Yeah, but you have to say that."

"No, I don't," he says firmly. "You think I'd lie to you?"

"No."

"Exactly. So, stop fretting."

Tugging on your hand, Jeongguk encourages you towards the staircase leading back down to the gallery.

He guides you until you reach the very top of the stairs—then groans. Tilts his head back and squeezes your hand. Laughs through his wailing, standing totally still.

He'd been so confident, so keen, and now it seems like he's faltering. Squeezing his hand back, you silently let him know you're with him, no matter what.

"It's just... God, it's all out of my control, isn't it?" He asks when you question his sudden change in demeanour.

"Well, yeah," you reply. "But it doesn't have to be a bad thing, Gguk. Letting go of control is healthy."

He shakes his head. Realises now that his stomach is in absolute bits. The butterflies he got when he looked at you had disguised it for a moment. He much prefers the butterflies. Cast his eyes back to you, and finds himself cured.

Tucking some loose strands of hair behind your ear, Jeongguk is ever so gentle. Isn't looking in your eyes as such, just at your face. At his hands. At how perfectly poised you are for him, like his very own star suspended in the cosmos for him.

"Hey," you say quietly, the silence between you not uncomfortable but indicative of the fact that Jeongguk isn't entirely at ease.

"Hi," he whispers back.

Edging away from him, but keeping your hands clasped, you get your back up against the wall. Pull him close.

Brows furrowed, there's a haze of confusion haloing around him. He's curious about what you're doing, but trusts you in such a way that requires no clarification.

As you lift your wrist above your head and delicately cross them over, you keep your eyes on his. Whisper, "Take back control."

The way that Jeongguk's large hand wraps around your wrists and keeps them pinned above your head is innate; as if he was put on the early to catch a star.

His hips press against your tummy as his nose nudges down to stroke against yours.

"Yeah?"

Nodding, you let your lips brush against his. "Yeah."

The weight of his hips traps you in place, your body naturally succumbing to what feels right. His aftershave seems stronger, grip tighter. Everything about him is amplified, yet it doesn't come close to the chorus your heart is just dying to cry; declarations of love wrapped up in the sweetest of melodies.

A whisper would be enough. He's the only one who needs to know.

The pressure of his piercing against your lips as he presses down into a kiss always sends you a little bit insane. Today is no exception.

His tongue swipes against your bottom lip, and you give him the access he so desperately craves. Whimper into the sensation of being with him. Reciprocate his hard kisses with your soft lips.

Once upon a time, when the tigers still smoked, this was forbidden; folklore of your former selves. Funny, how you know a love like this will become the stuff of legends. Eternal. Written in the stars to be marvelled upon by mature astronomers for decades to come.

No one will know who put the constellation of you in the sky. They'll study your shine for years, yet won't be able to fathom that you were willed to be that way by a mere mortal man; loved so purely that your legacy will remain in the cosmos forever. It's a beautifully foolish idea. Whimsical Impossible. Implausible, even. But with him? Somehow it feels feasible.

Though his kisses have strength behind them, Jeongguk's tongue is gentle as it strokes against yours. A mess of lips, and meeting of tongues, neither of you care to keep quiet. No one's gonna find you up here. This is a space in time reserved for you and Jeongguk alone. The rest of the world can wait a moment longer.

You'll retrograde, and unlike Saturn or Pluto, it'll be better for everyone—'cause you'll also inevitably go direct again, and it'll be so much more fruitful if Jeongguk's mind is at ease.

You do, however, regret giving him leverage, 'cause all you want is your hands in his hair. The hand of his that isn't keeping you secure squeezes at your waist, and you're reminded of just how much you like giving up control to him.

Curved into a smile, Jeongguk's lips leave yours far quicker than you hoped they would. With a casual shake of his head, he decides that he's ready for the orbit to continue. Doesn't mind if he gets a little dizzy in the process.

"C'mon, B," he says as he positions you in front of his body, and encourages you down the stairs. "Save it for later. Best behaviour tonight."

You whine a little, regretfully far too turned on than you really should be at a time like this.

Still, you accept his encouragement down the stairs, and make sure your fingers are intertwined with his as you walk on down to the exhibition hall.

"Oh, I can pop this in the cloakroom for you," you chirp without much thought when you notice his bag tossed down by the podium at which you'll be conducting the auction later on that evening. Black leather, you recognise it from your time spent in his room. It's usually tucked beneath his desk.

"Actually," he interjects. "There's something I wanna talk to you about—we don't have to do it, but I kinda just had a passing thought, and maybe it could be helpful—"

He begins to ramble, but it's cut off by your laugh. "Just tell me."

A little bashful, and somewhat nervous, Jeongguk reaches for his bag. The zip scrapes open, and he retrieves a small box from a nearby printing shop. "Now they're nothing fancy, and I just kinda mocked them up because I wasn't sure if we—"

"Gguk," you laugh. "You're rambling. Tell me."

"Sorry," he grins, passing you over the box, figuring that he may as well just show you his idea.

Lifting open the box, you're greeted with the familiar scent of fresh ink. It's always been one that you've loved: newspapers, books, magazines. There's a nostalgia to it. Inside sit a wedge of business cards—except when you pull them out, you realise they're something different entirely.

"So what I'm thinking," he begins as you study one of the cards. "Is that people can buy these cards, right—" he points to an empty space on the back of the card "—and however much they spend is written on here. When the restaurant opens, it can be redeemed. So, like, put in 50,000 now, and then in like six months' time, if they come for a meal, we comp through however much is on their token. Like a gift card, or a voucher, or I dunno, even a bar tab. Just to build a little extra capital up and also give them something tangible in return. Build brand loyalty."

"This is smart," you tell him with a smile.

"It's just something we discussed at uni once," he says a little sheepishly. "Some festival did it to raise funds for booking acts. I just figured it wouldn't hurt to try?"

"It wouldn't hurt at all," you tell him, wanting him to know that his ideas are just as valid and worthwhile as yours. Feel guilty for not just including him right from the start. "We could set up a stand near the cloakroom? There's space for it, and it'll mean everyone will pass it."

"Yeah?" He says, a little unsure of himself.

"Yeah, Gguk," you encourage. Stand on your tiptoes and give him a gentle kiss before pressing the box to his chest. "Go. Tae is near the cloakroom. You guys have full control. Set it up how you like."

"Are you—"

"I'm sure," you promise. "Go. I'll see you in a bit."

With a silent nod but a smile so bright it's practically blinding you, Jeongguk walks backwards for a few steps. Doesn't want to take his eyes off you. Pursing your lips, suppressing a grin, you blow a kiss in his direction, which is enough to satisfy him. He blows one back, then turns to head down the hallway.

Sighing so deeply the tides could change, you look around the room. Mutter to yourself, "Let's do this."

You always think you're not quite right for the glitz and glam that comes with the artistic industry, but come show nights, it's a surprise just how at home you feel.

Surrounded by art, and people who appreciate it, you're able to discuss your passion at length. As much as you love the art cafe, there's so much you can say about paint strokes with couples who come in for a fun date activity.

Watching on from across the room, Jeongguk thinks you shine brightest like this.

His view of you is obscured by the easel Taehyung is working at, and the routine Danbi is performing on the pole. Though Taehyung has seen Danbi like this a hundred times over—how her muscles work and flex beneath her skin, and the concentration yet serenity on her pretty face—he's never painted it so explicitly.

The stroke of his brush comes with ease, just like Danbi's movements appear to be. They really do make the perfect match, Jeongguk thinks.

When he glances back over to you, noticing how you're holding the little charm on your necklace, he wonders what people think when they see you together. It doesn't matter, really, but he hopes you're the kind of couple people grow envious of. He knows damn well he'd be jealous of himself.

And as the space beside him fills with a looming presence he would rather not acknowledge, he knows he's not the only one.

"Cleans up well, doesn't she?" A voice that Jeongguk had forgotten was quite so arrogant says.

Swigging back his drink, Jeongguk deliberates whether or not a reply is owed. If he felt like the dig was about him, he'd ignore it, but you're the one being spoken about. Of course he's not gonna just let it slide. Will be a petulant little brat about it.

"Seokmin," Jeongguk grimaces, deliberately getting his name wrong again.

"We both know you know my name," Seokjin smirks, adjusting his posture and broadening his shoulders. Lowering his voice, there's something sinister about the way he mutters, "No doubt you hear it in her sheets from time to time."

It's sort of funny how you considered roundhousing Hayun with a chair the last time you saw her. Jeongguk is thinking of doing something very similar to Seokjin.

"I know your name 'cause you're a clingy ex who won't stop sending her flowers," Jeongguk scoffs. Considers being vulgar. Mentioning the way you whine his name. Respects you too much to do it, though. All he really wants is for Seokjin to leave, so he lays it straight. "The auction tonight is for my start-up, so don't waste your time. I'm sure you won't want to lose your money to me, and frankly, I don't want it."

"You're right," Seokjin nods. "I'd rather not give you a penny, but I'm particularly interested in one of the listings."

Opening up the pamphlet, Seokjin pretends to skim through it until he finds the listing. Doesn't need to. Already knows which number it is. It's also right at the front. He's making a big old song and dance out of things just to piss Jeongguk off.

"Ah!" He continues. "That's it. Number one."

Jeongguk grates his jaw. Keeps his eyes on you. Is hard in his gaze. He doesn't want you to look his way and see the state of him, but he knows that his breathing exercises only calm him so much. You're the one thing that really grounds him.

" Experience for two at Pot & Paint Art Cafe ," Seokjin reads aloud. " Expertly hosted, it says, but we both know who'll be looking after the winners, don't we? Would be a waste for me not to win it."

He's deliberately trying to push Jeongguk's buttons. A few months ago, it might have worked.

But a lot can change in a few months.

"I might not bother taking anyone with me," Seokjin continues like the vapid narcissist he is. "Just me and her. I always hated that cafe, but there's that chair of hers—the one in the corner, her favourite..." he trails off. Smirks. "Yeah, I hate that cafe, but it can be fun when it's just me and her."

Jeongguk knows he should be angry. Knows that the 'correct' response to Seokjin's baiting should be red-hot fury.

But instead, Jeongguk just laughs .

It's not sarcastic. Not cruel.

If anything, it's hearty. Loud. Makes his head lean back, shoulders lifting to his ears. Has you glancing in his direction, smiling too—until you notice who is standing directly beside him.

Brows raised, you recognise the expression on Seokjin's face well. Knows that he'll be scoffing soon. Rolling his eyes, maybe. A year ago, you might have cared.

Now, all you can do is find your eyes dragged back home to a smile you never want to lose.

"Ah, that's funny, man," Jeongguk says with a shake of his head. "No, really. That's, like, the most deluded shit I've heard in weeks, and trust me, you should meet my ex. You'd get on like a house on fire. 'It can be fun,' " he imitates Seokjin, voice all goofy. Laughs, again. "Oh, fuckin' hell, man. That really tickled me. Good joke."

If he were to psychoanalyse himself—which he won't, not now that he has a therapist to do it for him—he'd probably realise he's developed a nervous response to stressful situations. Did the same exact thing when you told him you wanted to end things back in the Dionysus cloakroom. Had laughed and told you no.

The idea of Seokjin being with you, especially in the art cafe, makes Jeongguk feel sick, quite frankly.

And so, even if he seems unphased, Jeongguk has no qualms in asserting his dominance. Sure, he may be younger. Might not have his shit together.

But you love him in spite of it all.

He doesn't need Seokjin's approval.

"Look, I dunno why you insist on chasing around a girl half your age," Jeongguk says with a flippant arrogancy that can only ever be charming from a man like him. Though you're only a couple of years younger than Seokjin, Jeongguk reckons it's his youth that Seokjin is really envious of, so he plays into it. After all, it's the only thing money can't buy. "But I've been doing exactly what I said I would back at the tennis club: putting that youth of mine to good use. She's not interested, mate. So, if you don't mind, old man, stop looking at my girlfriend like she's yours."

Patting Seokjin's arm just to ensure that salt is rubbed into the wound, Jeongguk smiles as he walks away. Doesn't care to play nice. In fact, he doesn't care to play at all. Whatever game Seokjin wants to play, he can play alone.

Jeongguk slinks through the crowd that's watching Taehyung paint, and heads straight for you. He places his hand on the small of your back, joining your conversation. His spare hand reaches out to shake hands with the associate you've been talking with.

You're all smiles as you introduce him.

" Ah, the man of the hour graces us with his presence," You beam. "This is Jeon Jeongguk, the founder of the restaurant we're raising funds for this evening."

"Unique," the older gentleman you've been speaking with says as he shakes Jeongguk's hand. "It's an innovative way to get investments. I'm impressed."

Knowing him as well as you do, you're sure Jeongguk will throw it all back to you, so you don't let him.

"He's a sure bet," you assure the gentleman. "Hands of Midas, this one."

"Oh, I'm sure," he kindly agrees before you excuse yourself and leave Jeongguk to chat with potential investors.

As you depart, you subtly rub his back just to give him a little boost. He doesn't need you hanging on his side for the whole night. Will do well to speak with the art snobs independently of you.

After all, he's building a brand and needs to be the face of it—not just known as the curator's partner.

"Doing well, isn't he?" Seoyeon purrs, passing you a champagne flute as you join her by the bar.

Taking a sip, your eyes are locked in on him. He's laughing, now. Cracking jokes. Is so charismatic it's hard to forget how shy he can be.

"Incredibly well," you fondly praise. "He never would have done this a year ago."

"And who do we have to thank for that?" Seoyeon giggles, nudging against your shoulder. Her hair is loose, tiny plaits scattered throughout. Yoongi is across the room with the boys, a single plait secured in his hair, too. They really are a perfect couple.

It's interesting that you'd think that of them.

You, a cosmic entity; Jeongguk, stars for eyes. You're just as perfectly aligned as the Mins are.

"He'd have done it eventually," you smile. "Just needed a little push."

"Well, aren't we glad you were there to do it," she kindly says, then begins to ask about some of the auction listings.

You're thankful for the excuse to ramble on about it.

In a way, you're practising your pitches. Are a little bit nervous about standing on stage in front of everyone there and beginning an auction. While you won't be the one actually calling the bids in—you've hired someone from the local auction house for that—you still have the duty to present all of the items first.

It doesn't take long for Jeongguk to excuse himself from his conversation. Had gone in search of you earlier, but like the shooting star you are, you'd evaded him. Seoyeon squeezes your arms as he approaches you and makes her own excuses. Wants to give you this moment with Jeongguk alone.

His eyebrows raise upon seeing this, but a smile also graces his lips.

"Am I really such terrible company?" He playfully asks you, reaching for your hand. He lifts your knuckles to his lips and presses a sweet kiss against them, knowing better than to be so outwardly affectionate with you in a professional environment.

"Oh, the worst," you nod. "I only stick around for the money."

"A gold digger and a man without a penny to his name," he assesses, standing shoulder to shoulder beside you. Both looking out to the sea of people in front of you, it feels like you're on dry land when you're together. "What a pair we make."

"The stuff of Hollywood films," you hum in agreement. "Next time we're at a motel, that can be our cover story."

"Next time?" He smirks. "Thought you said it'd never happen again?"

"Well, beggars can't be choosers now, can they?" You sigh as if you're really bothered by the lack of financial stability your relationship offers you. Maybe it's naive, but you really think it's inconsequential. You'll be stable one day; for now, you're stable in so many other ways. "If it's the only way we can afford to hook up, then I guess we'll have to."

"And they say romance is dead."

Glancing up to him, you're amazed at how flippantly you speak of such matters, now.

"Let's not pretend like it's the worst place we've ever—"

"Byeol," he quietly scolds you, but he just can't help that damn smile of his. "We're here for business, not pleasure."

"Tell that to Jeongguk up by the roof a couple of hours ago."

"Still thinking about it?"

Your subtle grimace is hidden well. "Regretfully."

He smiles when he hears this. Is vindicated by your relentless desire to be with him. You're so flippantly vulgar when it comes to your desperation, and he finds it far hotter than he thinks he should, as if human attraction has never known such a karmic pull before.

Gaze hard on the crowd of people all mingling and chatting, he wonders how long it would take for anyone to notice you weren't around. If anyone would look for you, and upon failure, would look for him too. How easy it would be to work out exactly what's going on.

And yet he can't help but ask, "How long until the auction?"

"About twenty minutes," you guess. Haven't checked the time in a little while, but pride yourself in your judgement of time passing. Still, you reach for his wrist. Check his watch. Smile. "Yeah, twenty minutes."

Jeongguk weighs up his pros and cons. Tries to give it considered thought. Clasps your fingers with his, then says, "I need your opinion on something."

The way you let him guide you out of the room is damn near comical. Anything he asks of you, he'll likely get. Plus, you like that he values your opinion. Makes you feel seen. Heard. A lot of the things he does make you feel that way.

He's dastardly confident as he leads you down the hallway and back to the stairwell that takes you up to the rooftop.

"Something out here," he tells you over his shoulder.

You're not really sure why you don't protest. Don't tell him that now isn't the time to be going up there; that you're expected to be in the main hall very shortly.

His pied-piper grip on your attention has you following him regardless. Off you trot, up and away.

The inky-black skies have already spilt into the horizon. Lights spread through the valleys that surround the city, like whispers spreading far and wide. Rumours. Much the ones you could envisage trickling through the city's artistic elite if they noticed the Ryu's darling and some rogue tattooed charmer galavanting away together.

In all likelihood, no one would care.

It's just fun to pretend like you and Jeongguk are something worthy of the story books; as if the New York Times would have to cease its chart, for all the tales would be of Jeongguk and his star. Your adventures, far and wide. Paperback, hardback, special editions. Devoured by masses, adored by those who just got it.

But you're none of those silly little stories you dream up together. You're not wanted by Interpol, you're not star-crossed lovers, and you're definitely super spies, either.

You're just a guy and a girl.

Yet when Jeongguk has you alone on that roof, back pressed to the far wall, and his kisses feel as cosmic as they do, it'd be easy to pretend you're so much more.

"My opinion?" You mumble through the kisses you really don't want to stop. Whine a little as his strong hands begin to roam your body, squeezing and stroking wherever they can with little regard for the dress you're wearing. He might've been the one who bought it, but he wants it off just as much as he wanted to see it on. "You wanted it? On what?"

"On how quickly you think it'll take for me to make you cum."

"Gguk," you groan, as if your hands aren't working your way down his shirt. Miraculously, through no fault of your own, his buttons end up threaded through their loops. Undone. Oh, no . His chest is far more exposed than it was. Totally has nothing to do with you, or the fact that you like his chest just as much as he likes yours. "We can't."

"We shouldn't ," he corrects you. "But we most definitely can ."

As you laugh, he pulls back slightly. Tucks hair behind your ear. Gets his eyes on yours, and it's only then that you realise he must have planets in them now. Entire solarsystems. They just shine in a way that can't be earthly.

"You know how pretty you are after we fuck? You literally glow, Byeol," he praises. "I reckon people will want to bid more if they see you like that."

"What?" You laugh, bashful at the idea of people seeing you in a way that's reserved for Jeongguk and Jeongguk alone. "Fucked out?"

"Nah," he smirks into your lips, pressing down into a soft kiss. "Just pretty—but I can make a real mess of you if you'd rather? Ruin you, if you want."

"They'd never let me back here," you assure him, pushing him away, and then pulling him right back.

"Fine," he smiles, his body moving entirely up to your will. If you want him away, he'll go. Will respect your wishes. Be the gentleman you know him to be. But you haven't told him 'no', yet. Chess remains unspoken.

As his lips find a new home in the crook of your neck, chess is the last thing on your mind.

"I can play nice, too," he mumbles against your throat, wet kisses being pressed to your skin. He's obsessed with the scent of your hair, nose stroking against you. Groaning as he does so, Jeongguk doesn't care to hide the way you make him come undone. He's weak, and he wants you to know it. You gave him control earlier, but he doesn't want it. "I can be a good boy for you, hmm? Would you like that baby? Like me on my knees for you?"

Tall, broad, Cruel Summer-coded Devil; Jeongguk on his knees for you is the last thing you need at this moment.

Yet somehow it feels like it's the only thing you need, now that the thoughts have been planted.

They'll blossom in your head. Ideas of him, and his catastrophic eyes looking up at you. The feeling of him taking ownership of your sex with his mouth, and your heart with his eyes. Like vines of ivy, you'll become ensnared by him. Will realise too late that it's poisonous—and by that point, what else is there to do but succumb to a little death?

"You're literally gonna make me cum in like 5 seconds if you keep that up," you tell him. "I might die."

He doesn't mention it, but he does smile when he realises you've started talking like him. So integrated into one another's lives, it's getting harder to remember a time when you weren't utterly besotted.

"Keep what up?" He plays dumb, just as bratty as you so often like to be. You're not the only one mirroring. He's just as influenced by you as you are by him. "I just wanna make you feel good."

"You do," you softly moan into his touch. His lips are intentional against your throat, but it worries you. "No hickies, Gguk."

He nods, sucking just a little longer than he should but not hard enough to leave a mark.

Though he apologises, he's boyish and brass when his vulgar lips beg, "Just let me suck on your clit, instead. Please . I'll be so quick. I promise."

"Gguk," you whine, as if your body isn't one or two terms of endearment away from folding.

"I'll make you cum so hard," he whispers against your lips. "All on my tongue. You want that, huh, baby? You want the taste of your gorgeous cunt in my mouth?"

"I don't think you'll be quick enough," you reply between frantic kisses. This is a blatant lie, and you both know it.

"Let me try," he pleads.

Pressing kisses along your jaw, Jeongguk skillfully works his lips down your throat, chest, valley of your breasts. Is interrupted by your dress, and takes it as an invitation to skip it entirely. Crouches. Holds your hips as he kisses up your thighs.

The rooftop isn't private. Anyone could walk up at any second. The danger of it all excites you just as much as it terrifies you.

"I'm on my knees," he states the obvious, his hands creeping up the front of your dress. "I'm begging ."

Pathetically, all you can do is gasp a little as he pushes the fabric up. Curses when he's greeted with your lace-covered cunt. Lets his nose nudge up against you, just 'cause he can think of few scents he loves more. He knows it's the pheromones that make him this insatiable, but he doesn't give a fuck. Would wear you like a perfume if he could.

"Five seconds," you compromise. "That's all you get. Just a taste."

He doesn't argue against it. Knows you well enough now to know that timing just isn't your thing.

Instead, he pulls back. Hooks a finger beneath the fabric of your underwear, and tugs it to the side. Almost fuckin' whimpers as he watches strings of slick arousal cling to the lace.

He spreads your pussy apart with his fingers, and swears he might die at the sight of it.

Desperately wet, Jeongguk loves just how keenly your body responds to him.

If you had control over it, you'd hold back. Wouldn't give him such satisfaction—but you can't, and so you both have to live with the knowledge that sex will only ever be this good with him. You'll just have to stay with him forever, or something dumb like that, you guess. Shame.

"Gonna waste your time," you warn him.

"Just looking," he mumbles while his nose strokes up against your clit. "Doesn't count yet."

"You're bending the rules, Koo," you gently tell him. "Behave yourself, or you won't get anything."

"No," he whines. "Please. I just... God, B. You don't understand how fuckin' hot you are." And then he smiles. Shakes his head. Presses a single pouty kiss just above your clit. "My pretty girlfriend and her gorgeous cunt. Fuck. I love you."

Part of you thinks he's just saying it to buy time.

But you know it to be true, too.

"I love you, too," you whisper, stroking your fingers through his hair.

His tongue gently traces against your clit. Once. Twice.

"Doesn't count," he says again, voice hushed against you, the warmth of his breath cooling his spit.

"Five," you begin to count down.

Afraid he'll miss his chance, Jeongguk wraps his lips around your clit, latching onto you with such incredible force it's impossible to keep counting. Immediately, he just sort of takes your breath away. It'd be romantic if it weren't so sordid. Hands tangled in his hair, you keep him pressed to your pussy.

"Oh, fuck," you moan. "Feels so good."

But Jeongguk is dressed like a gentleman tonight. Will follow your rules, just like he always has done.

He pulls away before you've even really begun to acknowledge the sensation of pleasure he commands through your body. He's catching a quick breath, too. Looks up at you, eyes devastatingly doe-like.

"More?" he poutily asks.

And you just can't stop yourself from nodding, fingers still raked in his hair. "Yeah, baby. More, please."

He doesn't need telling twice. His lips press kisses against you, tongue stroking. With long, flat licks, and sharp, direct flicks, he varies his rhythm like there's music in his veins. Is an expert at the melody of you. Can play along without any sheet music. Just needs you as his conductor.

And conduct, you do.

"Fingers," you whimper after no more than a minute.

"Hm?" Hums against you as if he isn't desperate to do more. He just wants you begging, now.

"Finger me, Gguk."

Again, he doesn't need telling twice. His long middle finger pushes into you, curving instantly. He knows your body well enough now to know all your weak points. When your legs do a little involuntary shake, he knows he's found what he's after.

"So fuckin' good," you whine, head tipping back, one of your hands reaching back to hold onto the wall for support. "Keep going."

A second thick finger is pushed into you with ease. So desperate for him, you know that you'd probably even be fine with three. It'd be no match for his cock, and how perfectly it stretches you out. The thought of it alone is enough to make you moan.

"Oh, god," you breathe out as the sensation of building pleasure washes over you. You're so much closer than you really ought to be. Just a natural consequence of the honour you think comes with fucking a man like him; knowing that you make an earth-bound deity like him weak, too.

"Hold that thought, baby," Jeongguk whispers, pulling away from you, fingers still stroking up against your g-spot. His lips are covered in your arousal, the sheen of moonlight making him look ever so pretty. "Phone."

Your eyes are locked on him, even as he takes his phone from his pocket to check the caller ID.

And to your fucking shock, he answers it.

It's more than that, though.

He answers with a smirk. Looks up at you as he says hello—and then silently lets his tongue slowly drag up your cunt.

"B?" He questions down the phone a second later, the pace of his fingers increasing. "She's just walking off some nerves, I think."

And his tongue is back on you, phone held an inch or so away until he hears the person on the other end finish. You're so scared that the stop-start nature of his teasing will push you over the edge. It's the textbook play to make you cum just that little bit harder, just how Jeongguk really loves it. He's already had a few glasses of champagne tonight, but he'd rather have yours any day of the week. There's just no way in hell you can let it happen, not when he needs to go and face people afterwards.

"The rooftop, yeah," he says, smirking as you widen your eyes. "Nah, you don't need to grab her, I'll go."

He mouths at you to shush, his pretty smile shining just for you.

"Yeah, I'm sure," he says down the phone. "Typical isn't it? Climax of the evening, and she's nowhere to be found. Don't worry, though; I've got this, Hobbes. Yeah, yeah, I'll make her come. No worries."

When he hangs up, his lopsided grins doesn't even think to utter an apology.

"Hear that?" he teases. "Gotta hurry up and cum, baby."

"He's gonna disown us both," you tell him, but Jeongguk just shakes his head. Nudges his nose up against you. Presses a kiss to your clit, then gets back to business.

It's like an old dance at this point. Jeongguk knows all the steps. He could make you cum so easily if he wanted to—and now, he does want to. He's had his fun. Knows that no matter how hard you cum, you won't be fully satisfied until he fucks you.

"Cum before he starts looking for you, and he'll never know," Jeongguk shrugs his shoulders, then begins to rub small circles on your clit with his other hand. It's a combination he knows has lethal outcomes.

Your legs are frail and limp as he begins his relentless pursuit of your pleasure.

"That's it, babe," he husk. "Cum for for me."

Like the collapse of a damn, the sensation of Jeongguk's fingers spills you over the edge. The trembling of your whines and the shaking of your legs give it away. Your grip on his hair is painfully tight, but he kinda likes it.

"Attagirl, baby," he praises, then wraps his lips around your clit for the final few pulses of your orgasm. Moans against you. Nods. Pulls away from you slowly. Laughs. Rests his head against your thigh. "Just cancel the auction. Let me fuck you, instead."

Laughing now, too, you shake your head and encourage him to his feet. He's about to nudge his nose against yours when you stop him in his tracks.

"Uh-uh," you shake your head. "I've gotta go schmooze people."

"But I just made you cum."

"And you know I love you for it," you promise. Hold his chin so he can't sneakily divert his lips as you press a kiss to his cheek, then whisper in his ear, "But you also know I'm gonna return the favour later, Gguk."

"I'll die before you get the chance," he whines.

You sigh with a smile. Glance behind yourself to check that the coast is clear, before you do something you would have never dreamt of doing with anyone else.

Hooking your thumbs beneath either side of your underwear, you quickly shimmy them down your legs, until they're by your ankles. Stepping out of them before they reach the floor, your elevated heels act as a saving grace, you're sin dressed up in a pretty dress.

Jeongguk watches on, wholly bemused. Licks his lips when you stand directly in front of him, then silently lets them part as you press the soaked fabric against them.

He welcomes your underwear in his mouth. Sucks the taste of you from lace, his heavenly eyes closed, lashes splaying on his cheeks.

Without a word, you pull them back. Begin to fiddle with his belt buckle and find it incredibly easy to loosen. Unbuttoning his trousers, you're well aware that you're pressed for time, but you don't care. Nothing else matters.

He groans as your hand dips down into his boxers. He's so hard. It's gonna be damn hard for him to hide it. Might have to send you back down alone.

But when you start jerking him off with the same hand that's holding your soaked underwear? The wet fabric pressed against him as your other hand grips his hair to keep his eyes on yours?

God, he thinks he'll die .

But then you've got that look on your face—the one that Jeongguk know means no good. Wrapping the fabric around his thick shaft, you pump his cock once more. Twice, because you just can't help it. Readjust him. Get his desperate desire for you obscured. He's in boxer briefs, which helps. They're tight, and if you angle things just right, he can hide the fact he's two damn strokes away from coming undone.

You do his trousers back up. Belt, too.

"I'm literally gonna cum in my pants," Jeongguk groans, all pathetic and stroppy.

"No, you won't," you grin, though you'd kind of love it if he did. Turning to walk away, you call after him. "C'mon! I need to run to the bathroom, quickly. Can you tell Hobes I'll just be a minute?"

Jeongguk is right behind you. Lifts your dress as you walk ahead of him just to squeeze your ass cheeks. You let him. Just sort of ignore it, because it's not exactly an unusual occurrence with him.

Part of you is worried about this whole no-underwear thing. It's a short dress; all it'll take is a little stumble to flash an entire room of people you're trying to impress.

It's painfully clear that your desperate need to fuck Jeongguk at all times will surely one day be detrimental, but for now, you'll hope for the best.

"I'm so fuckin' hard I'm gonna die," he tells you again. Is a little sterner. A little more convicted. Has fully convinced himself that mortality lingers on undelivered orgasms. "I can't talk to Hoseok like this. What if he thinks it's for him ?"

"He'd probably be up for it as long as Joon could join in, too," you tease him, then add, "But it'll probably help if you stop touching my ass."

"Okay, firstly, what's yours is mine. And secondly, please don't put that mental image of Joon into my head—"

"Kinda hot."

"Byeol."

"What? He's got great thighs."

"Keep this up, and I'll bend you over mine," he threatens, as if the prospect of getting spanked doesn't excite you even more.

"Oh, nooo," you feign distress. "Please, don't do that! I hate it when you do that!"

Laughing, Jeongguk does give you a light spank just before you start heading down the stairs. "You're the fuckin' worst."

"S'why you're with me," you beam. Even if Jeongguk can't see your smile, he can hear it. Knows how radiant you must look right now.

Gently brushing the front of his trousers, Jeongguk checks to make sure his cock is as disguised as it can be. Hopes it just looks like he's packing—of which he most definitely is, but that's beyond the point.

Once you reach the bottom of the stairs, Jeongguk squeezes your side just before you head in opposite directions. It's a silent comfort. He touches you so often, not because he likes to be a nuisance, but because it eases that part of his brain that really is a nuisance.

Picking up one of the complimentary mints by the front desk, Jeongguk bites into it as he heads towards the main gallery hall. He knows that as much as your taste is his favourite thing in the world, it's not exactly appropriate for such an occasion.

Then again, nor is having your wet thong wrapped around his cock, but that's neither here nor there.

"Find her?" Hoseok asks as Jeongguk tries to slip into the room unnoticed.

Nodding, Jeongguk also reaches for a champagne flute on the tray being carried by a server.

"Yeah, she's just checking herself over in the bathroom."

"Okay, good. Oh, also—" Hoseok reaches over to tweak one of the buttons on Jeongguk's shirt. Looking down, Jeongguk realises he'd left far more undone than he thought he had. "—If you're gonna tell white lies about what you're up to, don't get caught red-handed. Or glitter-handed, would be better, I suppose. Maybe you should have gone to the bathroom, too. Checked yourself over, Cassanova."

Scrunching his face up, Jeongguk doesn't have time to respond before Hoseok swans off again. It's far better than his boner being noticeable, but it's embarrassing nonetheless. Better Hoseok notice rather than anyone else, though.

One day, the pair of you will be able to control yourselves, but it is not today. Likely won't be tomorrow, or the next day, either. In fact, it probably won't ever happen, but you can pretend like dignity will one day be a trait in your repertoire.

Still, when Jeongguk notices you smiling and chatting with important people in suits a few minutes later, he can't help but think you look incredibly dignified.

Then he remembers you're without your underwear. Considers dying again.

Through the speaker system, Shinwon's voice calls the room to attention. Unbeknownst to you both, it's perhaps the third time he's given a small indication for people to gather in the main hall.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, the skills auction is about to commence. Please join us in the main Gallery Hall. Auction directories are available at the back of the room."

The chatter quietens down, and it's up to you to lead command of the room.

There's no stage, thank god, just a podium for the auctioneer to stand behind. The underwear situation would have been dreadful otherwise.

Jeongguk watches on with unbridled adoration as you work the room. It's one thing to see you command a conversation amongst friends. Another, amongst professionals. But this? All eyes on you? Everyone sparkling in your presence? It's an honour.

He wonders how many people will begin to adorn themselves in glitter as a result of you. Wonders if you realise just how captivating you truly are.

The audience laughs when you're a little bit awkward in the most charming of ways, and they cheer when you reveal the first ticket item to be one you personally submitted.

"Now, I may be slightly biased, but even though this is the first item of the night, I think it's just as valuable as some of our later items. Someone always has to go first, though. It's an honour to kick off the auction with a private evening for two at Pot & Paint—arguably the city's finest artist establishment," you joke, knowing damn well that you've got nothing on the Ryu. The audience laughs with you, which does settle your nerves a little bit.

"Hosted by yours truly," you continue, "It's the perfect opportunity to unwind and indulge in your own artistic talents. Included are all the materials you'll need, four hours reserved off just for you, and complimentary drinks throughout the evening. Hosted by yours truly, I'll be there to assist throughout the night. Perfect for a date, for friends, or family. This is a money can't buy experience, as we don't typically do private rentals. There's a reserve of 50 thousand won."

Pitch complete, you pass control over the auctioneer to kick off the bidding process. Taking a deep breath, you'd been able to hide just how nervous you were while you were speaking. Your body language is far more reserved now that you're no longer performing.

Glancing up, you find Jeongguk in the crowd, and it all just sort of melts away.

He pouts his lips together. Presses a kiss into the air. Smiles, when you smile, too. Nods. You did good, B.

The auction starts with ease. Ten thousand, then twenty. Before you know it, the fifty thousand threshold has been hit. Your first real victory of the night. Sure, fifty thousand won won't buy you much—some cutlery, or maybe just a couple of pizzas for the team after a hard day of working at the restaurant—but it's a start.

You haven't been keeping an eye on Jeongguk's bar tab idea, wanting to leave that to him, so you really have no idea how things stand at the moment.

The bidders are random audience members. There's not much buzz around this listing—after all, people are here for the big items like Yoogni's custom furniture and Taehyung's art—but it's a nice way to ease the crowd into bidding.

Your eyes follow the raised papers when new bids are called.

But then eighty thousand won is called, and the elation that's been simmering in your veins freezes over.

Standing towards the back of the crowd, hand raised, smirk present, is Kim Seokjin. Every bit the asshole he always has been. Has that look upon his face you always used to hate; I win.

"Ninety thousand," calls a far more comforting voice from across the room, and just like that, your blood feels warm once more.

Gaze hard; Jeongguk is locked in on you. There are stars in the space between you, but it feels like a black hole is about to swallow you right up.

"A hundred thousand." Seokjin's voice booms through the room, but it isn't enough to shatter the vibrational pull Jeongguk has on you.

"A hundred and fifty thousand," Jeongguk calls out, raising his hand. Doesn't care how ridiculous the price might be. What he's doing isn't making a bet. Not really. He's making a promise.

I've got you, baby, his slow nod and furrowed brows tell you.

"Two hundred," Seokjin calls without missing a beat.

Jeongguk glances across to Seokjin. Glares. Briefly considers throwing his champagne flute at Seokjin's head.

Instead, he refocuses on you. Ups his bid. "Two fifty."

"Three hundred."

"Three fifty."

Anyone who doesn't know you would most likely think nothing much of the unfolding bidding battle. It's an auction. It's what happens. They just really love painting, apparently. The best—or should that be the wealthiest—man always wins.

The issue is that Jeongguk can bid all he likes, but you both know he doesn't have the money to pay for it. The only person he'll be cheating is himself when the night's earnings are tallied, and he'll have lost out on however much a genuine bid could have been for the private use of the art cafe.

This place is full of art lovers, critics, and collectors. Though it was never a high-ticket item, it was still one that you know you could have made money from.

Everyone can see Jeongguk and Seokjin battling it out. Nobody else is even gonna bother.

Their bids inch up and up and up. You wish you had never mentioned that you'd personally be at the winners' beck and call for the duration of their time spent in the cafe. You know that's what's motivating Seokjin right now.

"Five hundred thousand," he says, hand raised, an arrogant smirk being rightfully ignored by you.

"Six hundred," Jeongguk counters, growing impatient with this stupid fuckin' game of cat and mouse.

And so Seokjin decides to really rub salt in the wounds of Jeongguk's financial instability. He doesn't know much about him, but he knows he's just finished school and is relying on fundraising for his business.

It's cute, Seokjin thinks, that Jeongguk believes he can satisfy a girl like you.

"One million won."

There's silence. A gasp or two.

Until, all rather suddenly, there's a sigh. A cough. A hand raised towards the back of the room, far behind both Jeongguk and Seokjin.

Husky as he speaks, the new bidder draws a stunned silence from the room when he simply says, "One hundred million won."

[uh-niran-really]

FEM reader jealous of symmetra thinking her and lw are together? Then tries to commit, lw finds them on the floor begging for her to wake up and panics, calling sym to get help and rushing to get his prototype of his biolight hoping and praying it was enough to keep you alive until professional help came to help? 😈😈 (Idk how to write angst LMAO 😭pls help)

Once help comes reader wakes up in a hospital bed with lw by her side, messy and its obvious he's been crying before falling asleep. Then once he wakes up he cries and begs for her to never do that again ( 😻comfort time) he slips up and tells her how much he lovers her and its jst all gooey and mushy and they end up being together happily ever after 😈😈

Sorry if its too dark u dont have to write it if its makes you too uncomfortable😼

Suicidally Jealous - Lifeweaver x FemReader

Content: Angst, Suicide mention, Fluff

Word Count: 1700+

A/N: I struggled a little with this one, I didn’t want to make it too sad, but I think I found a good balance. I’ve been affected by suicide so I tried to keep it a little tamer for my own sanity. Hopefully it’s still to your liking and I did your request justice! ❤️

“Satya!”

There he goes again. At her every beck and call. You didn’t mind Satya, but you hated the way Niran doted on her whenever she was nearby. Everyone thought they were a couple including you. It hurt. You had loved Niran for so long and you just wished for even an ounce of affection that he gave Satya.

“Niran.. I’m busy, please ease up with the hugs.”

“I wish Niran would hug me like that.”

The pair looked at you puzzled. Niran laughed it off thinking that it must he a light hearted joke, but it wasn’t. You really did want him to hold you like he did with her. Niran backed off for a moment, to grab his coat.

“Satya, when are you going to be done? I’m hungry and I want to talk to you about.. well you know.”

Satya rolled her eyes, but smiled nevertheless. You watched as Niran walked back over to her desk and wrapped his arms around her neck, leisurely. In that moment you felt sick, your body trembling as you started to realise that he must be in love with Satya. Although Satya continued to write, you could see the smile on her face. You hated it, couldn’t stand the way they did this so openly in front of you, their dear roommate.

“Get a room, please..” You groaned softly, though neither of them heard you.

You waited for them to eventually leave, watching Niran followed her like a lost puppy. It hurt so much to see the man you loved be in, what you assumed was love, with someone else. Thoughts crept into your mind about how you will forever be alone, and never find happiness. You had been struggling so much with your mental health recently, and after today, things were getting too much to handle.

Crying was no longer an option. You had cried over Niran so much you felt almost numb to it all now, but in a suicidal way. You didn’t care anymore. Nothing would bring you happiness in the way he would. You had felt suicidal for a while now, always flirting with the idea of death, always hoping Niran would pull you back from the brink. As things stood he seemed to have his eyes set on Satya now. Good for her. She had won. Won the battle she didn’t even know she was fighting. Deep down you wanted to hate her, but what good would hate do. Instead you decided you would end it all, let them be happy together, without interference from you. You took a shard of hardlight you were studying for class and slit from your wrists to your forearms.

——🪷——

“One moment Satya I swear I left it he-“

Niran stopped in his tracks, dead still. His eyes widened in horror at the sight of your lifeless body on the floor. He gagged, a feeling of dread wash over him, body trembling.

“Y/N…?”

No response was given by you and this worried him further. He begin to panic, dropping to his knees to shake you lightly.

“Y/N… wake up! Please wake up… please!!”

He shook you harder before cradling your body in his arms, lightly tapping your cheek for signs of life.

“Please wake up.. please.. please… PLEASE WAKE UP! SATYA!! HELP ME!!”

Satya rushed in, startled by his screams. She gasped at the sight of your body in his arms and covered her mouth in shock. She didn’t know what had happened but she could hazard a guess.

“PLEASE GET HELP! Y/N WAKE UP!!!”

Satya froze, panic rooting her to the ground. She wanted to move but couldn’t. She was paralysed with burning fear. Her friend was going through hell and it made her sick with anxiety.

“SATYA!”

“R-right.. I- okay..” She trembled before finally breaking out of her fear, turning and running to find help.

You stirred softly in his arms. It wasn’t much but it proved to Niran that you were still alive. He cried out in slight relief, but knew he needed to act fast. Placing you down as gently as he could he rushed to his bedside table, tearing through his notes and trinkets until he found his life’s work. A secret project he had been working on. Something he had been waiting to test. Now was the time to do so. With shaky hands he hastily fitted the module onto his cybernetic arm and flicked his wrist. A tiny lotus flower bloomed to life.

“Please work… please…”

He fired it at your body, tears spilling down his face, mind screaming in panic. He watched as the lotus dissipated into your soft skin. The wounds on your arms started to heal, but not as fast as he wanted. The amount of blood you had lost worried him. He didn’t think he could out heal that, but he could attempt to close the wound a little to ease up the bleeding.

“Stay with me.. don’t leave.. please..”

He stayed with you, healing you up as best he could, mumbling to himself about how he needed you to be okay. That he was sorry for not noticing the signs of your depression. That he carried so much about you. Finally he got you semi stable, breathing steadied and he broke down in tears again. Satya came back with help and together they watched as they took you away to hospital.

“She’s alive?”

“Barely..”

“How.. she was as good as dead Niran. What did you do?”

“You can’t tell ANYONE Satya.”

He pulled out his notes and began to show Satya his new invention.

——🪷——

Your eyes fluttered awake, suprised you were even still alive. Your body ached with pain, though that was to be expected. The room you woke up in was a Vishkar hospital, not idea but that’s the way it was. You feel a hand on yours and look over to notice a messy looking Niran asleep on a chair beside you. His hair was matted and thrown up wildly into a soft bun, his cheeks tear stained with puffy swollen eyes. He had been crying, this shirt was damp from wiping at his tears. How long had he been there for? You weren’t even sure how long you’d been asleep. Still you were grateful he cared. Niran stirs in his sleep. Twisting uncomfortably.

“Y/N… please don’t leave me..”

“I’m here.. sadly..” You still didn’t know how you felt about being alive. You knew Niran must have been the one to find you, and you felt a tad guilty that he was worried, though it did feel nice. Niran’s eyes fluttered open at the sound of your voice, landing on you.

“You’re awake!! Oh Y/N thank goodness!”

He stands, flinging his arms around your neck, sobbing. You felt awful seeing him this way. Hearing him cry over you wasn’t as joyous as you thought it would be. It just made you feel guilty.

“Please don’t ever do that again… please… I don’t want to lose you… please promise me..”

“Niran.. I-“

“I love you.. please don’t end your life.. I’m here for you.. please.. let’s talk it out.. please..”

“You love me?”

The words felt weird. He loved Satya? Didn’t he. Surely he was just being polite. You felt him slink away from your neck, hands opting to hold your own, being mindful of the pain. Warm brown eyes gazed lovingly into yours.

“I.. I’ve had a crush on you for quite sometime..”

“What about Satya..? I thought you two were.. in love?”

“Oh heavens no.” Niran laughed softly. “I do love Satya, she’s my best friend, but no. Nothing romantic of the sort. It’s you I’m yearning for.”

You feel stupid for wanting to end your life over something that wasn’t even true. You loved Niran and the thought of not being with him hurt so much. In hindsight you should have used asked.

“I’m such an idiot..”

“No, don’t say that.. would you like to talk about it..? I’m here to listen to you..”

“I’ve been in love with you for so long, seeing you and Satya opening.. flirt.. was hard on me.”

Nirans eyes fell to your wrists, taking in the sight of your pain. Guilt overtaking his every thought.

“I.. I am so sorry Y/N.”

“This isn’t on you Niran. I should have just asked if you liked her..”

“Well, if it helps, today I was asking her about how I tell you that I like you.. completely innocent I swear.”

You believed him. He was a sweetheart and wanted nothing but the best for you. You realise now that those little smiles he gave you were his true feelings. His love language to anyone was touch. It made sense as to why he and Satya were so close. Now you knew he didn’t have feelings for her, everything made sense.

“Ohh.. that’s kind of you.”

“So, I take it that means you like me too?”

You nod, feeling overwhelmed with emotion. Last memory you had you wanted death, craved it, and now you couldn’t be happier.

“I promise you I’ll never let you feel that way again Y/N.”

“I feel better already.”

A soft kiss gets planted on your lips, a reminder to keep living. To keep going strong. He’s a little unsure about it at first but soon leans into it, cupping your cheek softy in his hand. You smile into the kiss, it was something you’d been dreaming of for the longest time. Suddenly things didn’t seem so bad anymore.

“There are more of those where that came from, you just have to promise me you won’t do that again. Can you do that?”

“Yes, I’m sorry I put you through that.”

“Satya was so worried about you. We both were. Im just glad you pulled through. My heart would be broken if you left..”

You pull him close for another soft kiss, which he happily accepts. Niran was yours and you were his. Everything had fallen into place. Over the coming weeks you started going to therapy for your mental health, niran right by your side the whole time. He cared about you, adored you, loved you. You and Satya also became close, you noticed what Niran saw in her, a sweet young girl who just struggled socially sometimes. It made sense why she stuck with Niran and now you. You had gained a boyfriend and a best friend. Life couldn’t be better.

[mxstly-melancholy]

Oh my goshhhshs i love your work!!! And gosh this had been on my mind for so long. I was wondering if you could please do one where the movie William Afton catches his employee touching herself after he hears his name in the bathroom and then calls her to his office and forces her to show just how she touched herself and then proceeding to fuck her against his own office door. 😭😭😭😭Please this is so bad but I trust your work🥹🫶🫂

thank you dear! this is such a wonderful idea~ hope you enjoy and thank you for requesting me!

William Afton x AFAB!Reader

Warnings: Pet names, semi-public masturbation, Degrading but also praise, slight Dom/sub, not proofread at all lmao… lmk if I missed anything!!

William was grabbing his stuff at the end of the day to leave work. His keys in hand and a bag in the other, he walks around the pizzeria to make sure everything is cleaned up and that everyone went home.

Just as he walked by the bathroom, he heard something and stepped back, putting his ear to the door.

“F-fuck- Mr.Afton..”

His eyes widen with excitement and curiosity, and he gets a brilliant idea.

He knocks on the door and the noise stops.

“Y-yes?”

“Y/n? What are you still doing here?”

He heard shuffling.

“J-just using the bathroom I’ll be out in a moment!!”

He giggles to himself, “come to my office.”

Her stomach dropped in panic, but she gathered herself and embarrassingly walked to his office where the door was open. William was leaning against his desk with a smile.

“Sorry Mr.Afton, I had a long walk ahead of me so I-“

“Sh.” He interrupts, walking past her to shut and lock the door.

“No lies. Show me what you were doing to yourself.”

Her face got bright red.

“I-I’m sorry?” Her legs press together.

“Get on that chair,” he points, “spread those slutty legs and show me how you were touching yourself.”

Her breath hitched, but she did was she told. She pulled her pants down and took them off, sitting in the chair.

“Come on, don’t be shy. This is what you want,hm? oh! Mr.afton! “ he mocks.

She whines and looks away, spreading her legs slowly to reveal her soaking heat. She began to rub circles on her clit.

“Ah, like that hm?” William gets on his knees In front of her, watching her every move.

“Keep goin’..”

she tries to hide her face with her free hand, embarrassed as all hell. She lets out soft, muffled moans that she can’t control.

William bring his hand up and licks two of his fingers, then, gently presses them to her core and pushes them in.

This rips a loud moan out of her, causing her to jolt. She pushes onto his fingers more and rubs herself harder.

“Y-yes! Fuck- feels so good!” She smiles.

William laughs, and pushes them deeper before he gives a ‘come here’ motion with his fingers inside her.

Her eyes roll back and she shakes with pleasure, her hand that was covering her face shoots out to grab hold of his shoulder.

“That’s good, hm? Better than doin’ it yourself, love?”

She nods quickly, “yes! Yes! I’m so close-!”

He shakes his head, “No,no, you aren’t allowed to cum yet darling. Only when I tell you to.”

She whines and moans loudly, trying to fuck his fingers faster. “Please- oh-god! I’ll do anything! Please let me cum Mr.Afton!!”

He smiled evilly, pushing his thumb onto her clit as he finger fucks her faster.

She basically screams, trying to hold back her orgasm as much as possible.

“P-lease-please I can’t-“ she begs.

“Cum.” He demands, and she delivers.

Her wetness drips and pools in his hand and all over the chair, as she shakes and moans loudly. He pulls his fingers out of her and stands up, revealing the tent in his pants.

“Can you stand?” He asks.

She takes a few deep breaths, “yea- I think so..”

“Well, then I didn’t do a good enough job. Get up.” He grabs her arm roughly and brings her to the door of his office, pushing her against it.

From behind her, she could hear the sound of a belt buckle coming undone. She sticks her ass out farther for him.

“Good girl.” He praises just before pushing his cock inside her. She whines in pain at his size, but adjusts quickly.

“So tight and warm for me..” he whispers in her ear.

He grabs her hips and starts pumping in and out of her at a fast pace. Her cum from previously coats him perfectly, adding just the right amount of slick.

She tries her best to stay standing, but her legs already feel like jello.

“Mr- mr.Afton, you feel so good!” She moans.

“You can call me William, love..” he breathes out, pushing as deep as he can inside her before going faster.

His breaths and moans are right in her ear and it only makes it so much better. One of his hands comes up and holds hers against the door.

“William- h-harder!”

He smirks, grabbing her hips and slamming into her, causing the closed door to make a cracking noise.

She basically screams, trying to best to hold onto something, anything.

“Yess!”

“Fuck- I can’t take it-“ he grunts. “Feel so fuckin good wrapped around my cock.”

She cums again, wetness dripping on the ground beneath them.

“Gonna fill you up, make you mine.” He growls, “you want that, love?”

Overstimulated, she just nods and moans out as he continues to abuse her hole.

“That’s my good little slut..”

William pumps in her a few more times before Cumming, filling her to the brim with his seed. His moans are deep and guttural, holding onto her with such strength it will leave bruises for weeks.

His forehead falls to her shoulder as they both stand there, breathlessly.

“So… do I get a raise?”

[m0nsterqzzz]

The Real Victory

pairing: Clove Kentwell x fem!reader

summary: when you return from the hunger games as a victor, the only thing you really want is your girlfriend

warnings: slapping (?), mentions of killing (not described, just mentioned), the games?

a/n: can you tag someone who asked anonymously? no idea. if so, somebody teach me. whoever asked for this, it's kinda sucky sorry :/ also, wtf is that title? no idea how to write titles lmao

You didn’t want to leave.

You like your home, you like your family, you like your friends, and most of all, you love your girlfriend.

Growing up, it was trained into your heart, soul, and mind that all you were there for was to volunteer as a tribute for the games. You didn't want to, and as a kid it never made sense why the people surrounding you were so eager to give their lives up just so the capitol could have some special edition entertainment.

“Respect. We want people to respect us.” Your best friend Clove had told you when you were just kids. She had this look in her eyes, one that everyone in district two has as they await the time to get their so-called respect.

Still, it didn't make that much sense to you. The capitol would never respect anyone other than themselves, so why would you even try?

Clove became your girlfriend when you were fourteen- though everyone says they knew you two were in love since you were kids. Not everyone understood why you would fall for her though, her unmatched anger towards anything and everything, her ability to kill anyone who looks at her wrong that comes along with her ruthlessness, and her cold, emotionless personality seemed pretty hard to love.

But that's not how you see it. She has a fiery look in her eyes, but it melts everytime she catches sight of you. She has the ability to ruthlessly kill, but you know she'd give her life to protect you.  She's cold and emotionless, but it just gives you reason to spend more and more time with her and in hopes of learning more about her.

The anger she has towards the world was only once directed towards you. The day you raised your hand and volunteered as a tribute for the games. You'd scored well on your final training test at the academy, as did Clove, so no one really batted an eye when thinking of one of your becoming a tribute. The moment you saw her arm twitch in a way that signaled she was going to give her life, you jumped in.

You’d only seen her once after that, a quick three minute visit in the justice hall where she didn't utter a word to you despite your begging before you were ushered onto the train and sent to the capitol. You wondered if she’d ever speak to you again, or if she really just hated you for taking what could have been her chance to prove herself to the capitol and everyone in your district.

Long story short, it fucking sucked.

You spent most of the games hiding in caves, attacking anyone that game along and by the end of it, you had more than enough blood on your hands for the capitols liking. You were sent home with the promise of a nice house and luxury items, but it wasn't much as in your district it wasn't that hard to get them before.

The train speeds through the forest surrounding district two, and you sit in a seat closest to the exit doors, knee bouncing up and down as the large buildings and factories of your home come into view. Almost everyone is outside the justice hall waiting to greet you, but you only want to see one person.

The transportation slowly comes to a stop, your stomach churning as you hear the cheers from outside the closed doors that only get louder when the doors slide open. Your mentor gets off the train, smiling brightly with pride as if it was here that survived. She rolls her eyes, motioning for you to join her on the platform so the train can leave and you can greet everyone.

Grudgingly, you do. With the knife that’s been strapped to your thigh since the moment you woke up in a hospital in the capitol placed snugly under your dress, you follow after her, the noise only growing louder as they catch sight of you. It’s not surprising for someone in district two to win, but they still think it’s amazing every time it happens.

You recognize some people; some friends from the academy, the nice old man who used to sell you and your girlfriend fruit every weekend, the trainer that graded your final test in school to make you eligible to be a tribute. But your gaze doesn’t linger on them for too long. It falls to the part of the group that's parting for something- or someone.

She’s kinda short, but her height doesn’t matter as she practically steps on anyone that won’t get out of her way as she sprints towards the platform you’re on. Clove.

Much to your mentors dismay, you bunch your dress in your hands to lift it up a little higher than the floor so you don’t trip as you run down the stairs and meet her in the middle. You open your arms for a hug, desperate to feel her comfort right now, but she doesn’t hug you. She lifts her hand, swinging it towards your face. It’s all you see before your cheek begins to sting and your head flies sideways, gasps leaving the people around you.

“Why the fuck would you do that?! You’re so stupid!” Clove yells. You’ve been dreaming of her and her voice for weeks, and that wasn’t exactly the first thing you’d think she’d say if you got to come home.

“I know. I’m sorry.” You mumble, and her eyes soften as she pulls you into a tight hug. Her eyes squeeze shut, one hand cradling the back of your head and the other squeezing the back of your shirt like you’re going to disappear if she lets go. Her knees seem to go slack, so you gently fall with her until you're both on your knees, still hugging like it’s the last time.

The crowd surrounding you guys finally starts to disburse, going back to their activities as you and Clove sit there in silence.

“I had to…I had to watch you get hurt. You got hurt and for the first time ever, I couldn’t save you.” She mumbles into your hair, tears wetting your shirt and you can hear the sadness in her voice. It’s not the first time she’s cried around you, but it is the first time she’s cried with the risk of anyone seeing her in such a vulnerable state.

You nod, no words coming out as you go limp in her arms, finally feeling safe enough in her embrace to just calm down.

She pulls a few inches away, just enough so she can look at your face. Her blue eyes scan your face, as if noting every detail that's changed in the time you’ve been apart. Right on your hairline is a small cut that will scar which capitol didn’t bother hiding as you’d never really notice it unless you looked closely- the way Clove is doing right now.

The dark haired girl leans forward, gently pressing her lips against the cut and letting them linger for a second. Her tears wet your face, but you know she’s never felt happier. She kisses your lips after that with a passion that could bring even the most powerful gods to their knees. You taste the sweet taste of the strawberries she loves eating on her lips for the first time in weeks and you feel like crying even harder.

“I love you. I love you.” She whispers the phrase over and and over again against your lips, not daring to let you go once again as she holds you as close as possible without hurting you.

She’s still pissed, definitely, and you know she’s going to make snide comments about your dumb decision for years to come, but that doesn’t matter right now. All that matters is that you’re here, not in the arena. You’re with her, not killing a district six boy. You’re here with her, not reliving your trauma for the first time in days.

She’s here.

[hils79]

Hils Watches Lovely Runner - Ep 10

I was laughing but actually the terminator franchise probably is the easiest way to explain the whole time travel thing

I mean that's a very good question

Im Sol: I'm sad Sunjae is going to the US to try and fix his shoulder and get over me but at least this way he won't cross paths with the serial killer who tried to murder him Destiny: Oh, you sweet summer child

Aww he thinks she's sending him away because she doesn't return his feelings. Look at his sad little puppy face.

That definitely wasn't me hiding under your table so of course I didn't see you kiss some other girl

Remember the first time I realised this was Jongho singing and I was so excited? Now whenever it starts I'm just 'NO NOT THE SAD JONGHO SONG I'M ALREADY SAD ENOUGH'

I know we as the audience know that she's lying whenever she tells Sunjae that she doesn't like him but from his perspective how many times does he need to hear it before he gives up? Like come on have some sense of self-preservation

He's so dramatic I love him so much. Shaved his head, got on his knees and cried while begging Sunjae to audition with his band

Oh, I think this is just how he imagines the scenario going

LMAO Sunjae agreed before Inhyuk got to make his big dramatic speech, and he cut all his hair off for nothing 😂

It was only at this point that I realised that this is probably Sunjae imagining their conversation. Everyone is being so dramatic this episode I love it

Ooh is he starting to believe her time travel story

When your ex-boyfriend and your future boyfriend both step in to help with the burst pipes in your house

Of course they're getting into a holding a bowl of water pissing contest. Im Sol isn't even paying attention to either of them.

Mom likes Taesung but Grandma is on team Sunjae

Now kiss? Love that they've abandoned catching water in bowls and are just snarking at each other while they and the floor get wet

Well that took a turn for the dramatic. From amusing scrapping to Taesung nearly getting electrocuted

Aww are they friends now one of them nearly died?

Ehehe! Yes he can

I mean you might?

Im Sol to Sunjae (lying): I don't like you just leave me alone Sunjae: Yeah, I guess she hates me but I still love her Literally everyone else: ARE YOU STUPID, SUNJAE? We can all see that she loves you!

His dad is going to lose his mind after he paid for Sunjae to train abroad and he turned it down (which fair enough he was injured) and how he's paid for Sunjae to go to the US for rehab and I think he's going to turn that down too...

Oh I guess he actually is going. Except not because Im Sol overheard and I bet she's going to go and say goodbye and he'll end up staying

Aww she didn't go to say goodbye she just wanted to watch to make sure he went and would be safe

Why the hell were the police not watching her house when they know a murderer is on the loose and that she's the one who told them about him

Aww I knew he wasn't actually going to leave

I'm not sure you do but okay

Ahhh! He went to pick up the time capsule! Spoilers!

Okay, maybe he does actually know it all

I was like 'ah, cool, he doesn't die in the future now' but THEN I noticed that Eclipse only has three members now. So I guess by ditching the audition Sunjae doesn't become an idol.

[chronically-ghosted]

delicious

rating: T (for cursing and drug use)

pairing: dieter bravo x f!reader

word count: 2160

summary: in order to make a fundraising event bearable, you and Dieter take edibles. When the event runs long, your only chance to make it out alive is to find something to eat. 

warnings: drug use (it’s just edibles c’mon you narc), eating, the munchies, messy kissing, dieter bravo being a giant goofball and i hate him, this fic is so self-indulgent i'm embarrassed FOR you, FLUFF

a/n: this one kicked my butt, idk why. But @ravensmadreads says its good so here you go. For my 100 followers event (this is the last one! wow!): @sp00kymulderr asked: Taylor!! Congrats on 100, you’re my favourite blog honestly I check your posts every day just to read your tags lmao. For the celebration can I request some of our sweet boy Dieter with the prompt “We should probably leave, before we start a scandal.” it’s absolutely perfect

🤍Masterlist

After thirty minutes, your eyes are starting to cross. Your high-ribbed dress pinches the soft skin under your tits and the boob tape is starting to chafe your nipples. The ruby red heels have officially given you blisters but the worst – the absolute worst of it – you’re fucking starving.

And the Layaway Barbie at the podium marches on, her big eyes wet and her mouth begging, as she proves to a roomful of donors why they should spend another million in . . . tree-frog rehabilitation. Dieter had been drawn to the little green guys with red eyes on the front of the invitation and as the guest of honor for his “philanthropic” work when he was “dating” a Doctor Without (personal) Borders six years ago, how could he not go?

Let’s take an edible before we go, he said. 

Whatever the vibe, it’ll be better if we’re on edibles, honey. 

That is the last time you let him convince you of anything while he’s not wearing pants and his hand is down yours. 

Your stomach grumbles and you fight back a whine. You make a noise like that and someone will definitely know you’re on drugs. The portly man next you has been staring at you with poorly hidden disgust all night as it is. But for now, his eyes focus in on Layaway Barbie, his loose jowls around his permanently down-turned mouth reminding you of a cartoon character. But which one?

Your eyes narrow at him. He glances at you out of the corner of his eye and it comes to you.

“Droopy!” you yelp and immediately clap your hand over your mouth. Your table mates eye you as if you are some society dredge they did not wish to involve themselves with. 

You turn as best you can in your seat, ready to either be scolded by Dieter or have him laugh with you, but he does neither.

In fact, cross-armed, low in his seat, he lets out a low snore. 

It’ll be fun, he said. 

“Dieter!” You hiss. Nothing. His face is relaxed, lips parting as he falls deeper asleep. Irate you didn’t think of it first, you smack him across the knee. “Dieter!”

He jerks, eyelids cracking open briefly, and suddenly he drops his chin again.

“Thank you for your blessing and influence, oh Lord. Am— oh, hey, baby, what’s up?” 

“Don’t ‘hey, baby, what’s up’ me. You were asleep and you just faked praying.” 

“Better than faking other things,” he yawns loudly, blinks a bit, and realizes the “inspiring” speech (and presentation) is still going on. “Oh, fuck, we’re gonna die here.” 

“Can you please keep it down?” The woman to Dieter’s right snaps. “You are making a mockery of a serious and pressing issue facing our society.”

Dieter blinks at her, his arms still across his chest. You can hear the bitch climb up his throat before he even opens his mouth.

“Well, you’re making a mockery of that dress and you don’t see me complaining–,”

You snag him by the hand and pull him away from the table before the woman has the good sense to throw her drink into his face. 

He stumbles behind you as you push on the metal bar, the latch clicking, and you both tumble out into the empty hotel hallway. When the event started, everyone had been herded in from the other doors, where the lobby was. This looks like the kind of hallway drunk co-eds wander down while trying to find the bathroom after prom. 

Which – ironically –

His big paw clutches your waist as he falls, or rather, stumbles into a tacky maroon and gold wall. In the fumbling under his legs as they overtake you, and keeping the rim of your heels from biting into your already puckered flesh, he manages to pin you beneath him. The instant the smell of his cologne washes over you, the instinct to claw his stupid eyes out evaporates. You sigh, both of his hands cupping your neck. 

“Mhmm, there she is,” he murmurs, sing-song, kissing your nose. “Little hellcat turns baby kitten when she gets what she needs.” 

“You are the biggest idiot I know,” you purr into his ear as his hands slide through the layers of your skirt to your ass. 

“Yes, but I’m your idiot.” The cry you let out when he pinches your ass cheek beneath your dress is all the answer he needs. 

Hands full of your thighs, he rubs you up the wall but there’s too many layers, too much gossamer to get him where you need him. His breath comes in short pants as he presses sloppy, wet kisses to your shoulder, your clavicle, your cheek. 

There it comes again. Hunger. Driven on by –

You bite him.

“Ow!” 

He pulls back and your mouth drops open in horror – you didn’t mean to bite him that hard and –

Your stomach lets out the most petulant growl. 

Hand on his neck like it’s bleeding, Dieter follows your gaze to your stomach as if it had called his name.

And then you both break out into side-splitting laughter. 

He eases you down, giggling, his nose pressed to your temple. Were you at home, the sex would have probably continued, but the atmosphere would be different – playful, teasing – he once did a Kermit the Frog impression while balls-deep inside of you and you laughed so hard you instantly came all over him. 

“Baby,” he sighs through his teeth and kisses your hairline. “I know. I’m so fucking hungry.” He snaps his teeth by your ear and you push him back by his chest. Two goddam years of dating this moron and he still makes you blush like you’re fifteen and necking with a band geek. 

His fingers wrap around your wrist to hold your hand above his heart, kissing your knuckles. He sucks your thumb once before you yelp, and he pushes your fist into his hair as you try to squirm away. He smirks into your neck.

“Dieter!”

“I’m hungry!”

“You’re the one who suggested we take edibles before coming to this thing.” 

“Mhmm, let’s go home and do more drugs.”

“But you owe me dinner. Five Guys?”

“Baby, I have to eat something first to have enough stamina for that.”

“Oh my god, you –,”

He bites you on your earlobe again, grinning as he comes behind you to nudge you down the hall. “I know what you meant. I’m down for burgers, but I want, like, five.”

“Me too. Carry me? My feet hurt.”

“Of course, mah kwehn,” he nods as he scoops you up across his broad shoulders, momentarily taking on the affectation of Jon Snow and his loyalty to the dragon queen. 

You’re working to kick your heels off as he marches the two of you down the hallway and you’ve nearly gotten your second heel off (the first in your lap) when he suddenly stops. 

“Oi, Thomas, we’re not at the train station yet,” you grumble as you reach for your heel, awkwardly tucked under you and his arm. “Keep it going. Choo choo, you know?” 

He still isn’t moving. You frown up at him, another transportation joke at the ready, but his wide-eyed stare gives you pause. 

“What are you looking at?” You turn in his arms, hunger now officially twisting your stomach painfully. “Why’d you–,”

Your mouth falls open. 

Beyond two double doors at the end of the hall sits a silver cart, loaded with tiny chocolate desserts. 

You swallow the spit flooding your mouth. This time, his stomach grumbles as if to add to the argument. 

“Dieter, put me down.” He all but drops you. 

“Dieter, we can’t.” 

“Why?” 

“We shouldn’t.” 

“Why?”

“You’re only saying that because we’re both high as fuck right now and I’d eat bathroom soap if I could.” 

That seems to rattle him out of his starvation-induced stupor. He snorts and rolls his eyes. “Please, when have I ever not eaten something I wasn’t supposed to?” 

You blink up at him, now several inches shorter without your heels. “What? None of that made sense.” 

“Doesn’t matter. I’m going for it.” 

He strides past a very wide hallway branching back towards the lobby of the hotel, no doubt where several waiters intended to roll dessert out to the waiting reception. They’d be back at any second, but either due to being higher than a kite, his own innate lack of shame, or a combination of the two, Dieter is across the hallway in seconds and he snatches up two of the little chocolate spheres and shoves them both into his mouth at the same time.

“Holy shit, they’re cream puffs.” 

Your hunger nearly doubles you over. “C-cream puffs? Those are m-my–,”

“Your favorite. I know. Mhmm, fucking get over here.”

Trembling from a lack of food and nerves, you slink over to him, hand out-stretched. He’s already had four more by this point and he’s stacking more onto a single plate as your fingers squish around one right in front of you. You pinch and the gooey white cream eases out the side. You whimper. 

Dieter pauses, the tips of his fingers stained with dark chocolate and a dollop of cream on his cheek. 

“That’s the sound you make when I eat you out.” 

Rather than answer your boyfriend, you pop the cream puff into your mouth. Your eyes roll back in your head as the pastry melts on your tongue.

“Oh fuuuck.” 

Dieter watches with growing concern as you scarf down pastry after pastry. “Okay, now I’m a little offended you’re so turned on by this.” 

“Shut up, and let me eat.” 

In minutes, the silver cart is empty. Chocolate smeared across a dozen haphazardly-arranged plates, dots of cream littering the spaces between plates and on the edge of the cart, it looks like a fucking war zone of confectionery. 

You find yourself breathing heavy, your face and arms covered in the guts of those poor, poor baked goods. Dieter isn’t faring much better, his jacket stained and beard sticky. Your hunger is sated, for now, but you think of burgers and fries and a vanilla milkshake and immediately turn to Dieter, who stares back at you with wide eyes.

“I want six burgers–,”

“We should probably leave before we start a scandal–,”

You stare at each other, soldiers shell-shocked, rehabilitated werewolves in horror of their bloodshed. Bloodlust.

The second you get home you’re gonna give him the kind of blow job that stops his heart.

Half-way laughing, half-way crying, you take him by the collar, further smearing chocolate over the starched white linen and his neck, and kiss him soundly on his conspicuous mouth. He giggles through the kiss and cups your cheeks, his massive hands sticky and warm. 

“We should go . . .” he murmurs again before pressing his lips to you again. Cream puffs or no, it all tastes better when you lick it off the corner of his mouth. 

“We’re gonna have to walk past the lobby,” you bemoan into his patchy beard. Dieter smirks and without warning, squeezes your right tit, leaving a very clear chocolatey handprint on your dress. 

“Dieter!”

“C’mon, baby, I wanna devour you. And I want all of them to know it.”

That was the thing about Dieter Bravo, he never did anything small. He never allowed you to feel small. He was obsessive about taking pictures of you, posting them everywhere, never ashamed of you and desperate to have the world see you the way he did. 

Like you were delicious. 

“I’ll buy you six burgers if you let us walk out like this.”

“Deal.” 

Grinning like only a man with nothing to hide can, he takes you by the hand and leads you back towards the very fancy dinner you’ve both no doubt been kicked out of. 

Something rises up in you the longer you stare at his broad back. 

“Dieter, wait.”

He pauses, turns, and crumbles slightly beneath the weight and intensity of your kiss.

“I love you,” you say before he can slip his tongue into your mouth. 

Dieter Bravo does nothing small, is nothing small. Except when it’s just you and him and the words you just uttered hang in the air between you. A small, hesitant smile expands across his lips, as if he can’t quite believe what he’s hearing but it warms him nonetheless.

“I love you too.” 

He kisses your nose and you sigh into him. You could stay like this forever, wrapped up in him. But then you might just eat him alive.

“Burgers, Dieter.”

“Right, right. How many do you think we can buy at one time?” 

You both ignore the paparazzi and their cameras as you walk hand in hand, your heels in your other hand, with Dieter out the front door and into the limo, arguing about which fast food joint would let you get at least twenty burgers. 

Nothing about Dieter Bravo is small. Especially his appetite. 

[depressopax]

LCDP NSFW Alphabet

Part 5 - T-V | Multiple characters.

Fandom - La casa de papel

»» Part 1 || Part 2 || Part 3 || Part 4 ««

OMG it's been ages! 😭

I missed posting fanfics :(

So here we go again! 🫶🥳

Pairing: Multiple LCDP characters x gender neutral reader Genre: Smut, headcanons Warning(s): Sexual content. MDNI. Insults, overstimulation, semi-public, dom/sub dynamic. Reader is gender neutral! I only read this once before posting - if you find spelling errors LMK! Words: 1.4K Summary: Part 5 of my LCDP NSFW Alphabet! T-V (Toys, Unfair, Volume) English is not my main language, if I make any spelling mistakes please let me know so I can improve my writing! <3

Nairobi 

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

She has some (a lot of) toys.

Most of them are for solo play, but now that she has you, it’d be a shame to not use them together, yk… 

If you’re comfortable with it, she can and will use them on you. 

Her favorite on herself being air pulse once

For her partner? Vibrators and stap-ons 👀

And she has more than one of them. Some of them are thin and only a few inches, and… Bigger once. 

Not a toy - but she also has lube etc. - You know what I’m trying to say…

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Oh she’s a teaseee

It turns her on to make you beg 

Or just to mock you (in a loving way tho) for being “sensitive” or needy during sex. 

Nairobi likes keeping you on edge, only allowed to cum when she tells you too

But this is only when she’s feeling a bit mean lol

Other times, she’s very loving and giving, not teasing you a bit 

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

She’s not scared to be loud 😼

If you’re making her feel good, why hold back?

She likes moaning your name loudly, sometimes hoping someone will hear it just to embarrass you a bit

She has no shame when it comes to volume, and wants to hear you scream too

Berlin

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

I feel like he either has some toys, or that he’s the guy that doesn’t own toys and refuses to use them on his partner, since “he’s better than some stupid toy” 

The toys he has are some vibrators, handcuffs, blindfolds etc… Maybe a whip too, who knows? 🤭

…Bonus point if you switch it up and use them on him

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

UNFAIRRRRRR AF

Will have you on your knees in the end, only because “it’s funny” to see you beg. 💀

He likes turning you on and leave you begging for more

But he won't give it to you that easily…

He also loves making you flustered - you blushing is the cutest thing to him. 

Good luck ;)

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

He is LOUD and without shame

Grunts, growls, moans

Cuss words, praise, degradation… You name it.

He talks shit in the show, and so he does in the bedroom LMAO

…And whimpers, too - if you fuck him good enough…

He likes dirty talking too.

He actually doesn’t mind if the neighbors hear his moans, combined with the sounds leaving your mouth - he wants everyone to know he’s yours, and that you’re his. 

Denver

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

He likes toys!!!

Very experimental and open to trying new things, if that’s what you want.

But he prefers using toys on his partners, or watching them satisfy themselves with a toy 🤭

He’s not picky with what toys to use! Anything that excites you excites him.

If you were to use toys on him, he’d be like: “Ew, no!”

…But eventually be too satisfied to complain ;)

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Oh he’s a MEANIE

Edging you and overstimming are his favorite things. 

Using his fingers or mouth on you until you practically cry from the intense pleasure

He’ll even tease you in public - rubbing your ass or thigh, standing close behind you - so you can feel his clothed bulge against your jeans… You name it.

He likes it when you get mad at him. It even turns him on 

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

The scene where he had sex with Monica during the heist and Arturito heard it?

Yea. That’s the answer.

He is LOUD and PROUD (...sorry, had to)

He moans your name, cusses, whimpers… Everything all at once.

But how could he not? “You feel so fucking good babe…” Is his excuse. 

People hear it alright… Especially when he fucks you in some public restroom

But he just ignores everyone that stares at him. At least he gets laid-

Tokyo

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

She owns like 1-2 toys, for her own pleasure.

Not really the type of person to share her toys with a partner

But she’ll make an exception of you - if you’re into that. 

She prefers it when you use toys on her, and will specifically guide what you do, to bring her the ultimate pleasure.

Sometime, she def buys you a toy as a gift “I can show you how to use it tonight…”

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

She lovessss being a tease

Turning you on during the “wrong” moments, wearing revealing clothes and bending down to pick something up… A bit cheesy, but she looks good doing it.

She knows what buttons to push to either turn you on or make you annoyed - maybe both. Actually… - Both works. 

A bit of a “brat” when she teases you. She likes it when you eventually take control and give her what she wants

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Not that loud, really. 

She moans and cusses, but only loud enough for you.

She doesn’t want everyone to know what you two are doing - it annoys her when other people do, and she doesn’t want to do the same shit. 

She doesn’t mind you being loud, tho…

Only means she’s doing a good job. ;)

Professor

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

He hasn’t really considered it, before meeting you.

Probably got embarrassed when you brought it up, but also aroused. 

He once agreed to use some toys on you during sex - and he LOVED it.

The sounds you made, how you squirmed, the vibrations from the toy that numbed his hand when holding it… 

It was addicting.

He probably looks online for sex toys, fantasizing about which he’d use on you, and what you would look like when he satisfied you…

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

He is not that much of a tease.

Only during foreplays

He is good with his fingers and likes being praised for it

…But also loves the power he holds over you when he pleases you with his hands. 

The way he can make you beg, and cum multiple times amazes him. 

So of course he uses your pleasure as a way to tease you sometimes… 

Having you beg for more, or just stopping before you climax, looking down at you with a cocky damn grin. 

Oh but you will get your revenge later… And he’ll enjoy it.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

He is embarrassed about the sounds he makes

At first he was quiet during sex

But it created awkward tension. 

Last thing he wanted was to make you feel like you didn’t do a good job. Because oh, you did…

With some reassurance, he dares to make sounds.

And eventually he moans and whimpers without shame.

He’s not that loud, but he does sound hot when he cums… ;)

Alicia Sierra

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Oh boy… Y E S.

She owns toys, alright.

Strap-ons, vibrators, handcuffs, buttplugs, you name it…

She only uses those you’re comfortable with, ofc.

But she is a bit… Kinky 🤭

She uses them on herself, especially when she was single.

But using them on her sweet partner? That's another level of pleasure…

Giving you that amount of pleasure makes her smile like an idiot.

Oh she loves slutting you out with her toy collection…

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

She’s very unfair and teasing.

She wears provocative clothes, whispers dirty things to you, and sends lewds… Whatever, and whenever. 

And it works every damn time. 

She likes frustrating you with not giving you what you want - unless you beg for it…

And trust me, she’ll make you beg. 

She loves you dearly, but this woman is a meanie.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Shameless when it comes to how loud she is

Because she is loud

Like in the show, she’s a bit… Unpredictable sometimes. So ofc she will scream and moan loud enough for people to hear her

And she definitely makes you moan just as loud.

AHHH I hope this was good! It's been a while since I wrote fanfics on here 😭

Please reblog and share if y'all liked it and THANK YOU for reading!! <33

[ghxstyfae]

Loves a journey ♡ Rafe Cameron

Synopsis: in which cupid sends Rafe his soulmate, except he cant adapt to his newfound feelings and instead translates it into rage until he cant handle it anymore. Eventual fluff

Warnings: angst, bully rafe -> soft rafe, hes just rlly bad at identifying his emotions lmao, part 2 will be fluffy and cute yk

Tags: @sunflowerleii @itzdarling

Love at first sight was never even an option for Rafe Cameron. Lust existed. Sex existed. But love? Love was an idea so unfathomable to Rafe that he wouldnt know how to fall in love, let alone at first sight. When the universe sends him his soulmate, how will he deal with the intense blooming feelings he develops simply upon looking at her?

Easy. Denial and rage.

When Noémie Di Bendetto and her family moved to the island, he hated her. She was a kook like him, and had been nothing but kind to everyone she met. She had never spoke rudely of him or even looked wrong in his direction, but he couldnt help the deep sense of hatred he felt.

He remembers the first time they met. Her father and Ward worked together and the Camerons invited them over for supper. They sat beside eachother and she attempted to make polite conversation with him. She was too nice. Like an angel.

She had to be fucking with him? Surely shes heard the rumours of him? And if not she would soon, and abandon him eventually anyways, so what was the point?

This was his logic with most of his "friends" nowadays. He only talked to girls to fuck them, and unless they were Topper or Kelce, his other friends were like pawns to him. He didnt trust anyone, he couldn't.

Noémie never let up though. She always greeted him with a smile, and even a hug if she got the chance, clinging onto him like a koala. His heart would swell when she looked up at him like he hung the stars in the sky, but because couldnt identify the feeling in his chest, he labelled it as hatred.

In his mind, it was hatred that ran so deep he didnt want her to he happy. Thats the only reason his chest tightened when he saw her laughing with some random guy who could never treat her the way he could. No other possibilities.

He only learned it was love after blowing up at her. She had brought the Camerons a pie she baked and had caught Rafe on a day worse then usual.

As normal, she was as sweet as sugar. She offered him the biggest smile even though he snarled at her upon opening the door. Instead of being gentlemanly like he knew he should've been, like he wanted to be, he yelled, or rather screamed and berated at her to leave them alone and stop clinging on and trying to get him to like her. He said nasty, hurtful things, and accused Noémie of things he knew weren't true.

He expected that to make her cry or break her spirit, and he regretted it directly after saying it but she didnt even flinch. Her face went stone cold and she gave him this look, with a bit of a smirk, that made his heart drop.

She ignored him for the next couple weeks and he couldn't stop thinking of her. He tried approaching her twice and she shut him down with a harsh "no".

He was going insane. She was like an addiction he didnt know he had. He had seen her nearly everyday, she texted him all the time, brightened every moment of his life, and he destroyed that.

By the third week without her, he decided he needed to apologize, he'd crawl on his hands and knees to beg for her forgiveness, anything to get back in her good graces.

He wasnt sure what it was. He didnt like her, this should be exactly what he wants. For her to just leave him alone, like he asked.

He drove to her house late at night, sending her a text he knew she would ignore (he still felt better sending the text as if 'announcing' his presence), and slipping through the backdoor that they kept unlocked. He snuck up to her room with the percision of many late night teenage hookups.

Her door was slightly peaked open and so was her window. He wasnt surprised. She was such a trusting individual sleeping with such easy ways to enter was completely on brand. He was, however surprised, when he crept beside her and pulled the cover off her shoulder a tiny bit to tap her awake, she was wearing bothing but a thin, lacy white nightgown. As if the change in tempture shoxked her awake, Noémie eyes snapped open.

"Rafe. Why are you in my room at four in thr morning?"

"I couldn't sleep..."

[fanficwritingcentral]

He who stepped up chap 3 (ao3 link)

Chapter summary: Oh Hyacinthus, Apollo thinks as he looks down from his chariot to see all of his lover's plants wilting, what have you done?

Note: So I just keep having more thoughts about this and I've now decided that Michael found Hyacinthus just after the trails of Apollo ✌️ hope you enjoy it and we'll see if there's a fourth chap lmao.

Have fun 😘✌️

"What has happened to him?" Apollo demanded. The newly reascended god stood in the midst of the Grove of Dodona. "Why haven't I been allowed to see?"

A gentle breeze came through the trees and lightly rustled the leaves and chimes, "there are forces older than thee Phoebus Apollo." The Grove whispered to his ear, "Forces in the deep and dark still with strength to affect your domain."

Apollo's eyes blazed white, "who dares to entrench on my domain? Who dares to withhold him from my sight?" He asked with a voice so deep with fury it shook the ground.

"We cannot say," the Grove whispered.

Wrath Apollo had not felt in millenia built up in side him, yet, before he could burst, the Grove whispered again, "hold Phoebus Apollo, prophecy may be withheld from you regarding your Hyacinthus. However, it is not withheld from us, distant from you and ancient as we are."

The wrath Apollo felt died down as quickly as it came, "what?" He begged, "what have you to say?"

The gentle breeze turned into a strong wind, the rustle of the leaves and clanging of the chimes grew louder and the Grove annouced its prophecy:

"There once was a prince of Sparta,

Who loved the sun like no other.

He lost him in death,

Only to protect the children with one last breath.

All hail the twice dying prince of Sparta."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"So someone is preventing you from Seeing Hyacinthus?" Rachel said as she paced back and forth in her cave. She was on a short visit to Camp to see how everyone was after their fight with Emperor Nero.

"That's right," Apollo said stilling gracefully on one of her bean bags watching her.

"And we know that Hyacinthus is most likely protecting one of your children and it's taking all of his energy to do so which has then lead to the wilting of every single Hyacinth flower in the world, because he is all of those flowers?"

"Right again," Apollo said tiredly, "usually he doesn't take this much energy to protect them and I always give him a little boost to help but this time I cannot feel his essence at all. When I try to See him there's this block in my mind that I can't get past so I can't even see which child of mine he's protecting either." He then got up and began to pace as well, "And now the only thing that remains of the man I love is disappearing because he is destroying himself to save my child. And I cannot See where he is!" He shouted in frustration with his hands fisted in his glorious hair and did his best to keep his divine power within his form as to not hurt Rachel.

"There is... something," Rachel said, after a moment, "something I can feel or hear, I don't know, but it started when you came out of the woods and it's just felt louder and more forceful as our talk has gone on and I can't ignore it anymore." Rachel then dropped down to a bean bag, pressing her hands against her head and began to moan.

Apollo quickly went over to Rachel, "let it out," he said with a gentle rub on her shoulder, "it'll only hurt more to keep it in."

Rachel then looked up at Apollo with glowing green eyes and said with a deep voice unlike her own "begged on bended knee, victories belovèd will show the way."

With the sentence complete whatever held Rachel released her and she began to gasp in air. Apollo continued to rub her shoulder in comfort and used a bit of his power to help her calm down easier.

"Victories belovèd? What does than even mean, it doesn't make sense, how do victories love anything?" Rachel said once she calmed down.

"No," Apollo said as he starred down at a little shoot of a plant in front of them that had just broken through the hard floor of the cave, "it makes sense, it didn't mean victories as in many victories, it meant literal Victory."

"Apollo?"

"Victory's belovèd," he whispered and brushed a finger against the tiny leaf of the little Laurel shoot, "I know where to go."

He looked back up at Rachel, "tell my children nothing of this, not until I return."

"But, Apollo, we can hel-"

"Nothing, Rachel." Apollo said as he starred down at his Oracle, "this is a matter that I will deal with. I will not foster this onto my children or anyone else."

Rachel swallowed and bowed her head, "I understand, Lord Apollo."

Apollo nodded and disappeared from the cave and went to a place he had sworn he would never return to.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Deep within an ancient forest in Greece, Apollo appeared. He walked through the woods that had been untouched by mortals for millenia. As it should be, given that he was the one to hide it from them.

Apollo walked under the warmth of his sun until he came upon a great tree he had only ever seen once. A great Laurel tree.

"Daphne," he called out, "what has happened to him."

Barely a second passed before a translucent visage of a beautiful Nymph that his divine heart still skipped a beat for, came out from the trunk of the tree.

"He came to me for help," she said, " he protects your son somewhere dark and dangerous, and he can't hold for much longer."

Apollo closed his eyes and dropped his head, oh beautiful, beautiful Hyacinthus, he thought, what I would give to hold you once more. And a son Hyacinthus protects, but which son? He could account for all of them. Which son of his needed saving?

"Will you help me find them?" He asked quietly as thoughts of all his living children raced through his mind.

The second she took to respond felt like an age, "Yes," she said and Apollo's head shot up in surprise, "yes I will."

"You will?" He asked.

"Why are you so surprised? You wouldn't have come if you thought I'd do nothing."

"You're right, ' Victory's belovèd will show the way', my oracle told me, yet I didn't want to hope."

"Victory's belovèd, hmm," she said, "he Named me that you know, when he called on me for help. I am not too sure I like still being thought of belonging to a god, nothing good ever comes out of it. But," she paused and starred straight into his eyes, "I much rather be beloved of Victory than of you, Apollo."

Apollo felt a sharp pain in his chest and nodded once, "I understand."

Daphne's face tilted to the side, "You do, don't you?"

"I do," he confirmed.

She hummed and then nodded to the ground where a small Laurel tree had just grown, "take that with you," she said, "I will lead the way."

Apollo waved a hand and picked up a pot that now held the plant, "Thank you, Daphne."

Daphne said nothing and turned back into her tree and disappeared.

The plant in Apollo's hands rustled without wind and a voice came into his mind, "head to the nearest cave," Daphne told him.

Apollo disappeared and reappeared at the mouth of the closest cave. A glitter of light sparked in the corner of his eye and looking to the side he saw Δ shining against the dark stone. He touched the symbol and a dark doorway opened, "go in," Daphne told him as she rustled in his hands, and without a thought Apollo walked into the darkness of the Labyrinth ready to save Hyacinthus and his son.

[selfproclaimedunicorn]

Another Lame House Party (Yeah, Just Like Pick Me Up)

Fist drabble I've written in the Modern AU for my HOTD fic (can be read here) that involves the main cast & it's about a character we haven't even met because she hasn't been born yet. Lmao, oh well. Not my fault I've been rotating this scenario around in my mind for a while.

Context for the Modern AU: Rhea & Daemon divorced instead of him killing her. The AU is mostly unserious & is just an excuse for me to say "this person is alive actually" & to do things almost exclusively for The Bit.

Myranda is Yorick Royce’s 2nd daughter/4th kid, & Daemon’s grandkid. I talked about the drabble some here. The title for the drabble is a reference to this song. Warning for my actually being nice to this man for once.

Myranda sat on the curb just outside the front gate surrounding the Waynwoods’ property, leaned forward to prop herself against her raised knees. She hit the side button on her phone, the screen lighting up to show only a minute had passed since she last looked. She sighed, and the breath was shaky. She was not going to cry over Alfryd Tollet.

Tires screeched as the car came to an abrupt stop in front of her, and she barely even looked up as she stood and flung open the door. Grandpa D turned down the volume on his obnoxious dad rock as she collapsed into the passenger seat and fastened the seatbelt, he did not say anything and Myranda did not look at him either. She felt stupid and silly, sitting in her grandpa’s car after leaving a party early even though she’d begged for an invite; all because of some stupid boy who didn’t even like her and couldn’t bother to let her know that. She sniffed hard and settled further into the seat, crossing her arms as her lips, sticky from too much lip gloss, turned down into a pouty frown.

“Alright, who’s ass am I kicking?”

“No one. They’re all my age, Grandpa D.”

“I don’t see how that should stop me.”

“You’ll upset Grandma Laena if you pick a fight with him.”

He sighed through his nose, his one-handed grip on the steering wheel tightening for a brief moment before his hand relaxed again. When Myranda finally looked up, her grandfather was looking at her, a lopsided grin on his face. It was so similar to Aunt Ella’s and Griffith's smile.

“No parents, right?” He asked, tilting his head back and pointing towards the house with his chin.

“No.” It came out more like a question, but that was apparently all Grandpa D needed. He grabbed his phone, unlocking it and frantically searching for something before handing it to her. A paused youtube video of police sirens. Red and blue started blinking at the corners of Myranda's vision: the strobe lights stuck to the windscreen that Grandpa D refused to get rid of “for emergencies.” Everyone knew moments like this was what he meant, and right now she was glad of that.

The car backed up just enough to maneuver the turn, and Grandpa D sped through the open gates. Myranda smiled for the first time since she'd seen Alfryd kissing Yssa Sunderly, and rolled down the window on her side before leaning forward to crank the volume up and pressing play on the video. The sound of police sirens blared through the speakers as they raced through the property and towards the estate, the wind from the car's speed making her pale hair whip about her face and get stuck in her cherry flavored lip gloss.

As they sped closer, the muffled thump of music came and then abruptly stopped. Grandpa D made a wide turn, keeping the sports car out of distinct view but still close enough where the flashing lights were still visible as teenagers poured out of the house. Out of the front door and various ground floor windows, side entrances for the various wings of the home, someone even came from a second floor window and climbed down onto a trellis, standing stably only for a moment before crashing through the delicate wooden lattice. They hung for a moment, and Myranda saw them drop to the ground and take off running just before the car turned around to the back of the home.

The turn was so fast and sharp that she had to hold onto the handle above the window to keep from getting slung into her grandfather. No doubt he was leaving tire treads all over the grounds, but she didn't care right now. It wasn't like this was Grandma Rhea’s home, or Great-Aunt Alicent’s. It wasn't like there was going to be proof she'd ever been here.

The lights turned off in the Waynwood estate, and when they drove around to the other side of the house there were no more teenagers streaming out of the home. Grandpa D turned off the strobe lights and sped further into the grounds, stopping under some trees before shutting off the headlights and putting it in park. Myranda paused the video of sirens and rolled the window up. When she finally exhaled the breath she'd been holding since they skidded around to the back of the home, it was accompanied by uncontrollable laughter. Her fingers were sore from her white knuckle grip on the handle, and she flexed them as she leaned hard against the arm of the passenger seat.

It felt like forever by the time her snickering died down, but when she was quiet and still and looked at her grandfather again, he looked just as self-satisfied as if the task of scaring everyone out of the party had only just been accomplished. Myranda returned his smile, and she idly wondered if it was as much like his as her aunt's was. How much of himself did he see when he looked at her?

“Feeling better, then?”

“A bit,” Alfryd's rejection without the dignity of being told it outright still stung, “it was funny at least.” Scaring the hells out of him definitely felt good at the very least, especially if she imagined that he's who dangled from the trellis.

“So, what do you want me to say to your dad when he asks me why I brought you home so late?” He asked, turning the headlights back on and driving back towards the gates at an actually reasonable speed.

“Um…so what I told mum and dad was that I was going to be spending the night at Maecy's. Do you think I could just stay at yours and Grandma Laena’s tonight, and then I can just text mum tomorrow that Baela and Rhaena were there, so I asked you to bring me home when you came to pick them up?”

“Trouble for me but not for thee, that's your angle?”

“You're always in trouble with daddy,” Grandpa D rarely did anything right if he was asked, “and he's supposed to be helping Aegon prep for mediation tomorrow. So really, I am very considerately thinking of his valuable time and you were just trying to help because you love him. And me. Don't forget me!”

“Forget my favorite? Never.” He responded, chuckling softly.

“So I can stay with you?”

“I'm sure Laena will understand.”

“Thank you, Grandpa D! I love you forever and ever and I'll never forget this!” Myranda would have hugged him if he weren't driving. She settled for turning around in the seat to look directly at him as she smiled brightly.

He glanced at her briefly, bright purple eyes darting towards her before going back to the road. There was a grin on his face when he responded. “Love you too.”

[chryblossomjjk]

bts fic recommendations | 03.07.23

→ hi friends! this is a little segment i do every tuesday (reviewsday get it, aren’t i funny, pls tell me how funny i am) where i read and review two-three fics. as a content creator, i know how big of a role other creators play in your growth, therefore, i want to do my part in making sure everyone gets the recognition they deserve! so with that being said, please check out the amazing fics listed below. make sure to like, reblog, and leave feedback! ♡ #reviewsday #kikirecs

stardust - @euphoricfilter (jjk x reader | fluff, smut, f2l)

summary:  if jungkook would have known an unintentional orgasm would have led to this, then he would have begged you to work out with him sooner.

naur bby when i tell you i loved this from the first paragraph...

"If every living being’s foundation is made of stardust, scattered when born, then Jungkook thinks the two of you were made from the same star."

and the way you continued the analogy throughout was pure literature gold (or should i say diamond teehee). its stuff like this that i read and im like damn, the moots are really out here posting fics that could easily be published best sellers for fucking free!! how lucky are we!!!

OOF AND THE PILLOW PRINCESS COMMENT HAD ME LOOKING AROUND THE ROOM BLUSHING BC HOW DOES HE KNOW ME LIKE THAT I FELT CALLED OUT LMAO

and the whole workout scene hits even better after his workout live like i legit was able to visual everything... and sex in the mirror will never not be top tier :')

i love this jungkook dearly. this is how i imagine irl jk yk? just that hopeless romantic vibe, feeling that he has someone on this earth that is meant for him and he's meant for them. thats encapsulated so beautifully in this fic. such beautiful writing, thank you for blessing us with this fucking masterpiece!!

knee high socks - @minniesvenus (jjk x reader | smut, college au)

summary: after being obsessed with you and your knee high socks for forever, jungkook can't believe that you finally notice him.

okay so do you ever just hear a song or smell a smell that feels so incredibly nostalgic and fills your head with dreamy thoughts and stars and stuff... that's exactly how i felt while reading this! like i just kept thinking of the arctic monkeys song and the way you characterized jungkook's crush is just so authentic. its just that pure school crush feeling where you anticpate seeing this person and the more time you see them you pick up on little things and it makes you fall even deeper oof. there's just something so fimilair about the way you wrote this and it's probably one of the most realistic depictions i've seen of the natural progression of a crush like uGH THE FUCKING TALENT !!!

and it makes you root for him so much like i was internally cheering for him when she asked him to sit next to him. it was so fucking wholesome and sweet i screamed

and then shit got unwholesome real quick whew

her giving him praise actually made me so happy though! like you definitely inspired me to write more of that bc its so refreshing and cute!! and the smut was saur naughty but so sweet bc she was just guiding him through the motions and once again it just felt so natural which is no easy feet!! like you really hit the nail on the head with this one and it will be added to my comfort fic list asap!! so so so lovely!!

in the seom: love for dummies - @thvhoe (jjk x reader | smut, fluff, angst, fwb, college au, camping au)

summary: always the friend, never the girlfriend. jeon jungkook doesn't date. at least that's what he thought until he met you, a chemistry student who seemed to have it all—except for love. meeting at a mutual friends frat party, you hit it off right away. however, due to both of your stubbornness, it has never progressed beyond being friends with benefits. the annual camping trip with your friend group was supposed to be the turning point in your relationship with jungkook. but what happens when your best friend of 18 years unexpectedly comes back from busan and confesses to you, further complicating matters?

OoF WHAT A FUCKING OPENING SCENE LMAO!! i was horny from fucking JUMP!!! and kook juggling between pet names and not knowing what to call her made me giggle but always made me extremely soft like aw :') &lt;3

and y/n really whipped that fuckboy into shape we love to see it!! he better buy gifts n work for the coochie!!! >:(

"Pookie🩶: Can't sleep. Send me a pic of your boobies?"

this had me cackling bc this behavior is saur... annoyingly endearing like he legit is a big baby and i love him lmao even though unholy he is extremely cute.

^y/n and i both having immaculate taste and listening to ditto

and i am so thankful things turned out well for this pairing. i felt so sad for him like ugh the protectiveness and worry over her. he was generally just so wholesome throughout this entire fic. def a fav protrayal of jungkook. thank you so much for sharing this beautiful peice with us my love!